


I (Don't) Want to Believe

by chibi_nightowl, strikeyourcolors



Series: Files From Beyond [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Capes, Alternate Universe - X-Files Fusion, Alternative Universe - FBI, Arkham Asylum Origins References, Exorcisms, Feelings, Ghosts, Haunting, Humor, M/M, Out of Control Plot, Past Violence, Sexual Content, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-01-25 18:19:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 84,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12538228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikeyourcolors/pseuds/strikeyourcolors
Summary: FBI agents Tim Drake and Conner Kent are sent to Arkham Heights High School to investigate a series of unexplainable incidents that have both staff and students on edge. Tim's firmly of the opinion the school is haunted while Kon is positive the occurrences can be explained in a more reasonable manner. After all, he doesn't believe in ghosts.Right?Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When we first started this fic, we had no idea what we were getting into. Really. The rough title should have been "The fic we thought would be like five chapters but is now out of control and rated E." 
> 
> We regret everything and nothing.
> 
> Enjoy!

Their office is buried in the basement, fitting for what it is they do. Not that Kon is all that certain over what it _is_ he and Tim investigate half the time, but he’s got to admit, since he partnered up with Tim Drake a few years ago, it hasn’t been boring.

Kon trudges down the long, featureless hallway. It reminds him of an old war bunker, all cement and florescent lighting. If it weren’t for the UFO poster taped up on the door, he’d probably miss it and be halfway down the hall before realizing his mistake.

He opens the door carefully, juggling the stiff cup holder with the three icy caffeinated beverages he decided to be nice and bring. One is his. The other two are for his partner. Tim consumes _insane_ amounts of caffeine and sugar on a daily basis and somehow manages to remain lean. It could be because he forces his partner to the gym upstairs at least a few times a week to work it off. Tim likes to run and constantly surprises him on the mats when he offers to spar. He’s yet to reveal exactly _what_ martial art he uses to kick his ass, but Kon is bound and determined to figure it out.

The office is brightly lit for once, the same florescent lights from the hallway shining overhead.

Tim is face down at his desk, snoring softly into some glossy file photos. His black hair had been tied back at some point, but his bangs escaped and are falling across his pale skin.

He's pretty sure the other man is wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Which meant Tim never went home last night, even though he swore he was going to. He decides to blame Stephanie. When in doubt, Tim’s zany, conspiracy theory loving, best friend is the way to go. Kon knew for a fact that Tim didn’t have any plans with Jason this week as the other man was out of town on business and wouldn’t be back until Friday night. He’s always a good second choice for blame. Somehow, the man they’d saved from a demon sacrifice had wormed his way into their lives.

Not that Kon is complaining on that one. Jason’s awesome and derives just as much enjoyment as he does from teasing Tim and being bewildered by his cluelessness over each and every advance he makes on the young FBI agent.

Kon feels for him. He really does.

Sighing, he sets down the drink carrier and his backpack at his desk. There’s barely space to move in the small room, between the two desks and Tim’s collection of file cabinets. He’s slowly scanning everything into the database, but he seems to find more new reports every day.

Again, he blames Stephanie, this time because it’s true.

Kon decides to use this quiet time to catch up on some of his own work. Namely, a report to their director with his observations on their last case. Tim is always good about filing those promptly, but Director Lance knows he can be _overly enthusiastic_ in pushing his agenda.

That the supernatural is real and hidden beneath seemingly ordinary events that simply cannot be explained.

It’s still something Kon is on the fence about. He knows he saw _something_ when he and Tim saved Jason from that fanatical cult, but by the time they returned to the scene with more appropriate backup, there was nothing. His partner looked like he was about to cry.

“The truth is out there, my ass,” he mutters as he boots up his computer.

He quietly works on his report for well over an hour before Tim stirs. Looking up, Kon watches as he slowly blinks himself awake, one of the photos from his desk stuck to his cheek. Tim bats it off and stares confusedly at Kon.

“Didn’t you just leave?” he finally asks.

Kon rolls his eyes. “Dude, I left…” he checks his watch, “over 15 hours ago.”

“Oh.” Tim blinks some more and puts on his glasses. He has an insane knack for always being able to find them, even in the absolute chaos of his desk. They’re probably the one stylish thing the man owns, black frames framing pale blue eyes.

Eyes both Kon and Jason waxed poetic over while getting drunk together one night not too long ago.

He waits, knowing Tim will see the coffee any second now. _This_ is why he doesn’t mind feeding his caffeine habit.

Tim zeros in on the iced coffee sitting on the edge of Kon’s desk and _lunges_ over his desk, knocking stacks of files over, scrambling, falling, cursing. He lands on the floor in a messy tumble, disappearing out of Kon’s sight for a moment. A slender hand reaches up and gropes at the edge of the desk, searching for the drink.

Kon takes pity and takes one out of the carrier for him.

The questing hand finds it and the drink disappears over the edge. He hears a quiet moan and, all too soon in his opinion, the slurping sound from the green straw as Tim finishes, trying to get every last drop.

It’d be pathetic if it weren’t so damn funny.

“You awake down there, Tim?” he asks after the last of the slurping noises stop.

“Awake is such a subjective word.” The empty cup reappears on the edge of the desk, the rest of his partner soon appearing as well when he finally stands.

His eyes light up at the sight of the second coffee and he makes grabby hands towards it. But Kon is faster and snatches it away. “No. No more coffee for you until you go take a shower. You didn’t go home last night.”

It wasn’t a question, but Tim took it as one. “Nope. I was going to!” He holds up his hands as Kon glares at him. “But I found our next case!”

“Our next case?” His stomach sinks. “What is it this time?” Kon asks, feeling very resigned. Tim doesn’t need a partner (he has Stephanie for that, really); he needs a handler.

Tim takes a seat in the one chair he didn’t knock over in his mad scramble for coffee. “Do you believe in ghosts?” he asks brightly.

“No,” Kon replies flatly. He doesn't like that glint in his partner's eye. It's the glint that says he needs to cash out his vacation days and fly somewhere far away from Tim Drake and any mysterious happenings. But not even that is possible; Tim once tracked him to a private island to investigate reports of mud monsters that were terrorizing the natives. “Absolutely not,” he adds in case the first refusal wasn't clear.

It doesn't help. It never helps. Tim's fingers have already begun edging toward the other coffee. He's shaking slightly and Kon isn't sure if it's because of the sudden rush of caffeine and sugar to his system or if he’s just jonesing that badly for his next fix. Probably both. Tim goes to his desk to collect a packet, slapping it down in front of Kon like he hadn't heard him. “This is our case. A ghost.”

“That's a picture of a high school,” Kon says, still in a flat voice. He lifts the coffee above his head as Tim stretches to try and reach it. It's pretty fortunate he has half a foot on the other man, because he usually ends up holding things out of his partner’s reach like he's a toddler.

Unfortunately, he's a toddler with a concept of object permanence and Kon isn't above hiding things on the very back of the tallest filing cabinet in their office. It's still not tall enough and Tim has knocked it over or clotheslined himself with one of the drawers at least twice.

“A _haunted_ high school,” Tim amends. With a tired huff, he sits on the edge of his desk. His lower lip is extended in what might be a pout and he retrieves his empty cup, popping the lid off and tipping it in case any stray drops of coffee remain. “This is like a full blown haunting. Electronics at first, but now objects are floating around. A few of the students have been hurt. They sent everyone away for fall break but the administration is worried about letting them come back.” His tongue shoots out, licking the clear plastic walls of the cup clean. It's pathetic. It's also kind of endearing and cute. Kon's life got a lot easier with his partner when he started thinking of him as a very intelligent but socially stupid dog. Kon loves dogs. “It's not even that far. Like a six hour car trip. We could make that today!”

Kon sighs as he thumbs through the photographs that all do indeed depict supernatural acts. Photos are so easy to fake, but Tim seems so earnest. He knows he's weak like a gazelle and his partner is a caffeine-fueled lion lying in wait. “I am not going anywhere with you until you at least bathe,” he announces. That should buy him some time.

There's a frown on Tim's face. “The gym opens at eight, right? I'll just go there and-”

“No. No, dude. Go home. Shower. With soap.” He's going to call Stephanie. He's going to have her go with Tim and hose him off (an idea that is too attractive unless Kon mentally adds freezing jets of water) and scrub a week's worth of wild scheming out of his hair. “I guess sleeping in a bed is too much to ask?”

“I just slept,” Tim agrees. “Probably more than you did. The gym is just as accessible and the water quality is actually better than at my place. Do you know what kind of water filters they use? Mine is so alkaline that-”

Kon lowers the coffee cup a fraction of an inch. Tim's eyes fixate on it in a way that would put Oracle and her team of psychics to absolute shame. He's also pretty sure there's drool forming at the corner of his mouth. “You need to pack too, right? Shower at home. Eat a meal.”

A plush lower lip is gnawed between white, straight teeth. “Then I get coffee?”

Got him. “You can have coffee on your way to do these things if you promise to do them,” Kon offers, feeling generous and waiting for Tim's brain to catch up.

It takes about four seconds. “Gimme,” Tim says, gripping Kon's wrist and pulling it down. He has the straw in his mouth and is sipping before the drink is even out of his hand. The licked-clean cup has been tossed somewhere in the office. Kon makes sure Tim tips the cleaning staff each week he's actually present. “Wait,” he adds, words garbled around the straw he refuses to let go of. “Does this mean we're going?”

“As though I ever have a choice.” But Kon knows he does. He could reactivate the paperwork he filed asking for a new partner. He could tell Director Lance half the crazy shit they've done on company time. But he doesn't. Tim does need a shower, and a meal, but mostly this buys him the few hours he needs to smooth things over. He can file the appropriate paperwork and get the expense card and spin this somehow. “This will protect the kids, right?” He's already rehearsing.

Tim is halfway into his drink and has finally reached the point where he can pause and savor it. “Mhm. Everything for the kids,” he mutters vaguely. “But the admin’s only agreed to a week. That's how long the break is.” He pauses, lifting his head and cracking his neck in a manner Kon eternally finds creepy. The time he'd sprung for a personal training session at the gym, the trainer had totally agreed with him and scolded his partner. It hadn't helped the behavior. “I don't think we'll need that long, though.”

“God willing.” Tim isn't listening. He’s patting himself down for the essentials: car keys, phone, and the identification to get him in and out of the building and then he’s off without another word.

Kon immediately texts Steph, because Tim will forget what he's supposed to do. She created this monster in the first place, he only fed it after midnight.

There's paperwork to file to keep this above the board (and more importantly, paid for) and an office to secure. Plus, he has to pack his own stuff. Tim has no reason to come back to the building, so he decides they can just as easily meet at his place. It's probably sad that Tim has his own ghost hunting equipment and it's worse that Kon knows where he keeps it.

He texts Jason while he waits for the elevator to take him to the ground floor. It's safer than calling, because he's never sure what time zone Jason Wayne is in or if he's entertaining important clients or in the middle of a fight with his dad. Important, rich people stuff. **/Out of contact for a while. Going to explore a haunted high school with T. Is my life a Scooby Doo mystery?/**

Kon is somehow reassured and not surprised when he gets a response as he's entering his apartment. **/He would look pretty cute in a red pleated skirt. Wear an ascot for me!/**

Jason Todd Wayne is no help. None at all.

**/I thought it was Daphne old Freddy boy was trying to get it on with?/** Kon texts back.

It doesn’t take long to pack. He keeps a travel kit ready at all times with his toiletries, never knowing _when_ he’s going to get a call that gives him ten minutes at most to get his shit together and head out that door. Admittedly, it hasn’t happened that often now that he’s partnered with Tim, but old habits die hard.

Kon is unplugging his phone charger when his phone pings again.

**/The back of that van has seen it all, man./**

Yeah, Jason’s probably right about that one. He chuckles and goes back to packing.

*****

When Kon arrives at Tim’s apartment, Stephanie answers the door. He has his own key (courtesy of the blonde because Tim is _always_ losing his keys), but knocking is polite and that’s one thing Aunt Martha always made sure to drill into his head. Good manners got you far in life or something like that.

“Hey!” she says excitedly. “I got your message. Tim’s still packing.”

“Did he take a shower?” Kon asks as he enters the apartment. Every time he comes here, it still amazes him how much _space_ the man has. He knows they’re paid peanuts, so how he can afford this on a government salary is beyond him.

Then again, it’s jam packed full of things he considers absolute _crap_ , so there is that to consider too. Tim is a closet hoarder. He wonders if he and Jason should band together and start an intervention.

Or maybe just come over one day when Tim’s passed out at the office and get rid of everything.

Stephanie grins. “I hosed him off, just like you instructed. He kept insisting he could do it himself, but he started falling asleep on his feet.”

“After two iced coffees?” Kon grimaces and sets his duffle bag down near the door. “That’s a record.”

“ _I know_ ,” the blonde agrees. “If it weren’t for the crash and the swearing I just heard from his guest room, I’d have thought he was passed out again. It’s been too quiet.”

Kon shakes his head. He gets it. Tim has a knack for falling asleep in the oddest of places and at any given time. He’s been tested for narcolepsy more than once.

Stephanie prattles on. “I made sure he packed clothes and toiletries this time. Unless he’s totally off his rocker, he won’t steal your toothbrush again.”

“How did you hear about that?” Kon asks in disbelief. He knows Tim and Steph are BFFs, but there are some things you just don’t share. “Tim was dead on his feet.”

Although that particular incident is one Kon’s not likely to forget anytime soon. They were utterly exhausted after a particularly rough case involving a serial killer with cannibalistic tendencies (his mind shied away from a gruesome memory of raw flesh and white bone) and Tim, after he coaxed him into the bathroom to wash up, completely stripped right there in front of him and marched right in, not even bothering to close the door. For some reason, he opted to brush his teeth first and used Kon’s toothbrush rather than his.

Kon won’t lie and say he didn’t stare at his partner’s ass the entire time.

Steph just shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “I keep telling you and Jason, he’s messing with you two on purpose. But do you believe me? Nope.”

“Tim has the social cues of a five year old,” Kon retorts. He and Steph have been over this before. “He’s utterly clueless to anything that could be considered a come on.”

It’s another thing he and Jason can commiserate over. Rather than being mad he has a rival, Kon and Jason have formed a bond over how fucking clueless Tim Drake is. Sometimes, _sometimes_ , they’ve gotten a hint that there’s something there, but it disappears so fast neither are entirely sure they’ve seen it at all. Stephanie, on the one occasion she went out with the two of them, said that Tim’s playing them and gets off on the idiot act. That and he’s having a hard time deciding who he wants to actually date. Kon is his _partner_ after all and Jason, well, he’s _Jason Wayne_.

Neither of them believe her.

“One day, you’ll believe me,” Steph says with a huff. “ _One day._ ” She flops down on the sofa and picks up a large purple duffle bag from the floor and starts rummaging through it. “So, I understand we’re heading to Gotham?” she asks, changing the subject.

Kon lets it slide. “We? Tim and I are going to Gotham. I’m not sure what the hell you’re doing.”

He’s known Stephanie for a while now, but he still has no idea what she does for a living. Somehow, she almost always manages to come along for these oddball cases if they’re within a few hours of D.C. Why she’d want to come to Gotham though is anyone’s guess. Kon hates that city, even though he knows Tim and Jason both called it home at one point.

“I’m _from_ Gotham, nimrod,” she replies. “Where do you think Tim and I met?”

“On a roof top where you threw a brick at me thinking I was a creeper,” Tim says, coming into the living room with his arms full of equipment Kon has no idea what most of it even is.

“You are a creeper,” the two of them say in unison. They share a look and start laughing while Tim just looks put out.

“Why are all my friends mean to me?” he whines.

Kon takes pity again and relieves him of some of the gear. Tim beams at him.

Yup, socially clueless.

“Do I even what to know what you two were doing on the roof?” he asks, juggling what looks like an amplifier and a folded up boom like the ones TV crews use. What these are for, he has no freaking clue.

“We were looking for UFOs,” Tim replies like it was the most obvious thing ever. “What else would we be up on a roof for?”

Steph starts snickering while Kon just stares. The look on Tim’s face, so innocent and eager…no way. There’s no way the blonde hurricane is right.

Kon smirks. “Well, I know what we did in Kansas up on the roof. But everyone knows Gotham is just full of weirdos.”

“I’m not weird!” Tim protests, dropping the rest of his equipment by the door. “Just because I believe in UFOs, ESP, ghosts, and the lost city of Atlantis, doesn’t mean I’m weird.”

“You forgot demons,” Steph reminds him and Tim nods vigorously in agreement.

“And demons! You should believe in demons now, Kon! We rescued Jason from one!”

“Like I could forget.” But he's tried. Oh, how he's tried. It's not something he ever dreams about. No, those memories strike when he's drifting off or first waking up. Floating in a happy, half asleep place with images of a billionaire's tortured son dancing through his thoughts. Kon's not like Tim; he hadn't ever seen Jason as a gawky teenager (and Tim promises him that Jason was all feet and awkwardness once but Kon suspects that's only to make him feel better) and so his only exposure has been to him as the near-hulk he is now. The first time he saw him shirtless was that night, strapped to a stone altar, screaming at him to shoot the motherfucker in the head and calling him a useless sack of shit when he didn't.

In Kon's defense, the bullet had gone right through the head of the demon hovering over the bound man, ready to devour him body and soul. And Jason had survived with only minimal damage so he can be forgiven for lodging that image of his muscles straining against the leather bindings on his wrists and ankles deep within the recesses of his mind. “Still not sure they are as common as you say. If that even was a demon.”

He knows it was. He can just never admit it to Tim. His deathbed confession (he is working very hard to die in a bed) might be that Tim Drake was right about monsters.

Tim snorts and his eyes narrow. “One out of every thousand people has an encounter with a demon, Kon. It's a well-researched statistic.”

“By the Catholic Church?” Kon counters. He grunts, cut off from arguing further as Stephanie slings a bag at him and hits him squarely in the middle. It's purple, of course, with line art of what he thinks are breakfast foods. “Why do I have your bag?”

“I told you. I'm coming with you.” Stephanie sniffs indignantly. “I can't believe you keep forgetting me.”

“I'm not forgetting you, I'm just hoping I imagined it.” Kon studies all Tim's gathered baggage and equipment. He has an SUV that can fit two canoes, but he's already playing mental Tetris trying to figure out where to put all of this.

There's a frown on Tim's face. “I hate to say it, but you might need to sit this one out, Steph.”

“What?” The shriek of the pitch makes Kon cringe backwards a little. “You can't be serious! I made you! Who gave you Bigfoot bait? Who held a séance with you?”

But, surprisingly, Tim stands firm against his best friend. “The Director's already been making noises about shutting us down. That last hospital visit made her think we'd be better off somewhere else.” Still together, of course, because one or the other of them would be dead without their partnership. Realistically, it would probably be Tim. “I'll take lots of pictures and video chat you every night.”

He likes to think that at this point he's seen every trick Stephanie Brown can pull. She takes her bag back from him and he's almost surprised she went without a fuss. That is, until she bolts out the front door and flings herself into the back seat of Kon's SUV. It's a dramatic belly-flop onto leather bench seats, and it has to hurt, but there's only a second of pause before she drags her knees in behind her and slams the door.

“Guess she's coming with us,” Tim says and picks up one of the smaller, lighter bags. “Let's get a move on. Daylight's wasting.”

Kon wonders when Tim started acting like a dad on a road trip. He contemplates googling some great gas stations to abandon Stephanie at on their drive. Outwardly, he blithely loads up the car with their gear and bags. “Where are we going, exactly?” Somehow, he's seen pictures of this place, and he knows he'll be driving for more than half a workday (and hopefully not hitting rush hour in Gotham), but not much else.

“Like a half hour outside of Gotham,” Tim answers. “Hey, do you want some bottled water for the road? I got samples of this really great brand filtered with volcanic ash and-”

“If Jason wasn't out of town I'd think you were trying to get work to finance a booty call.” From the back seat, Steph snickers.

“A booty what?” Tim asks, blinking large eyes at him that are bluer than they have any right to be. “Oh. No. It's not one of those. There really is a haunted high school.” He brushes it off so easily, so casually, that Kon is disappointed. He'd expected a blush or something. Instead he's treated to the sight of Tim's unfortunately clothed backside as he climbs into the passenger seat.

Stephanie pops her head out the window to look at him. “Does the seat recline? I'm going to try to put Tim down for a nap.”

It's going to be a long road trip.

*****

Tim naps. Kon is grateful because passed out on your desk is not restful sleep and Tim needs to catch up to be fresh for the case. He’s alarmed because Tim Drake on enough caffeine and enough sleep might have skewed those statistics about demonic influence by being said demonic influence himself. He passes the time arguing with Stephanie about what she's doing coming with them. He suggests dropping her off to visit her family. He suggests finding a random family and paying them to make her stay and visit. He tries to make a giant ball of yarn seem so amazing that she will totally want to hang out with it for a week. She counters by naming off some five star hotels that she'd really love to stay at and so the negotiations begin.

By the time Tim wakes up, Kon has her bargained down to a middle of the line spa that has a reputation for having a ghost make your bed. He's trying to get her up to four days when Tim starts to stir. “Uh-oh,” she says. “Better pull off the next place with decent coffee or somebody's gonna be grumpy.”

“How am I supposed to know where has good coffee?” Kon counters. She rummages through her purse and pulls out a map. Locations are circled in different colors of pen. “Tim thought of this. Um, it looks like the best reviewed coffee is two exits away.”

Making a map of locations of coffee is not the weirdest thing Tim has done. Not even the weirdest thing he's done this week. Kon gets coffee by the time Tim is blinking blearily at the road signs. Stephanie gets apple pie. Kon gets soft-serve in a cup that he balances on the steering wheel as he drives. “Tell me about the high school,” he says to Tim when it looks like his partner has functioning brainwaves again.

“It's a relatively new school,” Tim responds. “Maybe seven or so years old? It was built when I took this job but hadn't been open very long. Ever heard of Arkham Asylum?”

Kon nods. “Abuses of power everywhere. More delusion than danger in the inmates but they still managed to kill all the guards not once but twice?” The case had been on one of his exams for the department. Something about repeating mistakes. “It was demolished, wasn't it?”

Tim bobs his head in a nod. “Yep. And guess what was built in its place? Using some of the same materials, even?”

“No shit?” Stephanie calls out, almost delighted.  “I knew there was something weird about it. I guess I wasn't paying close enough attention. This is so cool. A high school haunted by mental patients. You have to let me come!”

“You're going to the spa,” Kon replies but he has to admit it's pretty stupid for a high school to be built there. Didn't most state hospitals like Arkham have a cemetery on the grounds? “If I have to leave you there bound and gagged.”

There's no immediate refute from his partner, which he's come to translate as agreement. Stephanie seems to grasp it as well, because her lower lip extends in a ridiculous pout before she crams a giant bite of apple pie into her mouth.

“The more I dug,” Tim continues, “The more I found. Tons of maintenance issues. A bunch of legends that you can expect out of teenagers but usually not so detailed or creative in such a short amount of time. Plus, Arkham's history. Have you ever heard of Amadeus-”

“Rock me Amadeus!” Stephanie moans through a mouthful of pie.

“Arkham?” Tim finishes. “Because that's who we might be dealing with.”

“Okay, him, I don’t know about,” Kon replies after a moment of thought. The name, other than the last name, didn’t ring a bell, so it must not have been on his exam.

Tim gets a look on his face that usually means he’s about to launch into a story. He’d have made a great professor, but he’s easy to side track.

“The Arkham’s were an old family in Gotham, just like the Wayne’s and the Kane’s are today. However, there was a history of mental illness in the bloodline. Dr. Amadeus Arkham was the sole heir back in the early 1920s when he converted his family home into an asylum…”

Kon can’t help but be entranced by the details.

The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane (shortened to Arkham Asylum because the full name was quite the mouthful) had quite the history even before it became an asylum. Elizabeth Arkham was Amadeus’ mother who was originally thought to have committed suicide, but it turned out was delusional and thought she was being haunted by an evil bat spirit. She didn’t commit suicide, rather, she was killed by her own son, who saw the same spirit.

He suppressed the memory (and man, did Kon know what that did to a person) and didn’t remember the full details until his wife and daughter were murdered by Martin “Mad Dog” Hawkins. His wife Constance was dismembered and mutilated by the serial killer while his daughter Harriet was decapitated and her head placed in a doll house. Hawkins actually became one of Amadeus’ first patients, whom he later killed by an _accident_ during an electroshock therapy session.

“No wonder the man snapped,” he comments when Tim pauses to take a sip of his coffee.

“No kidding,” Steph agrees. She’s commandeered the middle seat in back so she has a good view and access to the front. Kon has swatted her hand several times when she tried to change the radio station (he’s driving, so he gets to listen to his favorite 90’s rock station; satellite radio comes in handy sometimes).

“I haven’t even got to the best part yet,” Tim replies grimly and continues.

The shock and trauma of the murders causes Amadeus to snap, although no one knew it until after Hawkins died while under his care. In his madness, the doctor apparently cannibalized the bodies of his wife and daughter in some shamanistic ritual that was designed to trap the bat spirit he believed was haunting his family.

“After Hawkins died, Dr. Arkham’s decent into madness became more readily apparent and he became a patient in his own hospital,” Tim explains. “He supposedly scratched the words of the binding spell into the walls and floor of his cell with his fingernails until he died.”

Kon can’t help but feel a chill run down his spine. “That is one spooky ghost story. Do me a favor and don’t tell it at night.”

“Or around a camp fire,” Steph adds.

Tim shrugs. “One of the most common complaints on file at the high school is that there’s an infestation of bats. But every time the exterminator comes out, they never find any. However, the janitors and staff, really anyone who’s there early in the day or in the evening around sundown say they hear the sounds and screeches of bats flying around.” He sounds excited by the prospect of hearing it for himself.

“Perhaps there’s a cave or an old sewer nearby?” Kon tries to offer a more reasonable explanation.

“Nope,” Tim grins. “The land was surveyed properly before the high school was built. While there’s a proper sewer line, it’s sealed up like a modern line is supposed to be. There are no caves in the immediate area and the few that were found are too small to house a bat colony of the size that would be needed to create the noises reported.”

Kon chews on that for a moment. “What else has been reported?”

“Several members of the staff and students over the years have reported seeing a little girl wandering the halls. There have been reports of a woman wearing an old fashioned dress sitting in the library. And…” Tim trails off, biting his bottom lip pensively.

“And?” Stephanie prods.

“And reports of a man in the wing that houses the nurse’s office wearing a wedding dress and carrying a razor.”

“Right…” Kon drawls. “Tell me another one.”

“No, seriously,” Tim replies. “Based on the journals of the doctor who treated Amadeus Arkham, this is very likely the doctor himself. That ritual he did…he wore his mother’s wedding dress and used the same pearl handled razor that he killed her with.”

Kon happens to glance in the rearview mirror at just the right time to catch Stephanie’s face pale and her eyes widen. This is the first time he’s seen the usually unflappable woman look _afraid_. It makes him nervous.

“Tim,” she says carefully. “If the ghosts at the high school really are the last members of the Arkham family, just how do you plan to get rid of them? This isn’t like _Ghostbusters_.”

“I was thinking an exorcism.”

He says it so matter of factly that Kon takes his eyes off the highway for a moment to turn and stare at him. “An exorcism?” he asks flatly. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Kon is won’t lie and say the story of the Arkham’s hasn’t spooked him a little bit, but who doesn’t love a good ghost story, especially one based in fact like this one. But an exorcism takes it right back into the fantasy-land Tim and Stephanie live in. Kon lives in the real world, one based on fact and tangible evidence. While he’s willing to admit (very privately) that perhaps monsters are in fact real (he’s met plenty of monsters who wear human skin, but the one that almost ate Jason…he forces himself away from those memories), there’s a certain spiritual implication behind an exorcism. One that says God is real. He likes to think he’s pretty open minded when it comes to religions and other people’s beliefs considering he grew up in the Bible Belt and had to sit through Sunday services every week, but even then, he never took it all that seriously.

Tim turns serious blue eyes on him, eyes so serious Kon can’t hold his gaze and turns back to the road. “If I thought for a second I could get rid of these ghosts myself, I would. They’ve been there for a very long time though. They’re strong. One report even said the little girl could manifest to the point where she was _solid_ and held someone’s hand when they tried taking her to the main office, thinking she was lost. Honestly, I think she’s going to be the most difficult one to put to rest.”

“This is why you need me there, Tim,” Stephanie says stubbornly. Kon glances in the rearview mirror again and while she’s still pale, there’s a mulish look on her face.

His partner shifts in his seat so that he’s turning those still serious eyes on his best friend. “No, Steph. This is _dangerous_. There’s a good chance we’re going to get hurt. You’re technically a civilian; we can’t risk you being there.”

“Tim,” she tries again, but he cuts her off, holding up his phone.

“I already booked you five nights at that spa I heard you and Kon talking about as I was waking up. You’re going, and you’re staying there. We’ll pick you up on the way home.”

This is another first. Kon’s never heard Tim put his foot down like this with his best friend before. He knows better than to interrupt, so he keeps driving.

And wonders what kind of trouble is awaiting them ahead.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Stephanie is dropped off at the spa with a credit card and reassurances of Tim's continued contact with her. Their hug goodbye is long enough that the bellhop waiting on Stephanie's bag calls Tim _Mr. Brown_ as he leaves. Kon just couldn't believe Tim forked over his credit card until he admits it's one with a five hundred dollar limit so she can't cause too much damage. 

They both laugh at that. She would do it out of spite from being left behind when Tim might be in danger. 

The sun is sinking low in the sky by the time Kon finds the school. Roads are blocked off for construction and still others his GPS claims exist don't actually seem to. They get turned around twice, which Tim calls supernatural confusion and he calls having poor directions and no sense of the area. There's a chill in the air, but the sky has been a crisp and clear blue all day. A day he's spent in a car. Leading to a night he'll spend in a probably haunted school. 

Kon sighs longingly. 

“What is it?” Tim questions as he thumbs through his phone, looking for the number of a maintenance man who is going to hand over his keys and security codes before he leaves on a well-deserved vacation. 

“Nothing,” Kon says glumly. Nothing. Just he's sitting in a car with his best friend and partner who is almost certainly leading them into mortal danger and there's always been something between him, but he's never been sure what it is or how to act on it. Because the thing he and Tim have is good and he doesn't want to ruin it. “The apple festival is this weekend.” 

Tim doesn't glance up. He pushes a few buttons and holds the phone to his ear. “You'd rather be at the apple festival?” 

“No,” Kon decides. “The pumpkin one is better. We can go to it.” He's brought Tim home plenty of times. And the thought of him among safe orange squash with hay in his hair from a hayride is comforting. He's going to hang on to that pumpkin image when push comes to shove. 

The maintenance man is named Tom. He meets them outside the car and Tim rests a little tape recorder on the hood as he talks about the experiences he's had with the school. It's all kid stuff at first; lights being turned on that were off. The security system has gone wild so many times they've simply stopped using it. Balls in the gymnasium seem to be found all over the school as well. 

“Have you seen a little girl?” Tim asks. “Or anything like that? Anything strange?” 

Tom shakes his head. “I've heard stories about her though. Mrs. Merlon, the guidance counselor? She swears she sees a little girl. Promises she's been brought to her office at least half a dozen times only to vanish. But I always thought she was a little cracked.” 

A little cracked. That describes Tim pretty well, Kon thinks. He's familiar enough with this not to jump in, only to take a few notes because Tim will want them later and won't want to completely go through the audio of the interview. That’s Stephanie’s job, if she ever gets her hands on the tape. 

“You boys be careful,” Tom advises them. “And if you do any damage, call Simon. But try not to do damage. The budget is tight.” 

Kon has to make the promises because Tim is already dragging equipment out of the car. He's practically bursting with joy to get into the high school and Kon can only follow helplessly. 

“I thought we'd do a walk through and maybe set up some equipment for now,” Tim informs him. “Then we can go get checked into the motel and set up our equipment there and make sure the connections work; I made sure we got the best WiFi possible so that shouldn't be a problem.” 

The school is a lot like the high school Kon went to, and the few he's been to since then for work. There's a tacky mural on one wall, some posters for the sports team on another. Lockers line hallways and a half-empty trophy case is by the entrance to the gym. Tim takes photos as they go, probably to put together in a map later. All together the school isn't very large. It's also very quiet. 

The soles of Kon's shoes squeak on the freshly waxed linoleum, sounding oddly loud in what he remembers as a noisy place. The few times he was ever in the main part of his high school after hours (the gym and locker rooms were where he spent more time, athlete that he was), it felt kind of like this. Something off from the rest of his memories. 

Tim has brought a wide variety of equipment. They focus on the cameras for the time being. Wildlife cameras that are triggered by movement. Temperature-sensing cameras are placed near them. They have six all together, and they aren't yet to the stage of Tim using the backups for the backup cameras, which has happened once or twice. Kon tries not to think of the rainy night he spent trying not to drown in a sewer as he looked for his partner, who was chasing some kind of mutant gator. 

The kids they'd saved had been worth all the property damage. Tim hasn't been near a sewer since. 

They work easily together, setting cameras on tripods and plugging them in to two power sources each. It feels wrong to talk to Tim about the ghosts, as though they might be listening. If he talks about them, it might seem that he somehow believes in them. Which he doesn’t. Nope. 

“This brings back uncomfortable memories for me,” Kon says, trying to lighten the mood or at least break the silence.  He doesn't want Tim to get too lost in his head on this case. “I wasn't a fan of high school.” The academic portion at least. He practically lived for football and wrestling. 

“I'm sure it must have been so terrible being flirted with by every cheerleader on the squad,” Tim comments dryly. “Really. My heart bleeds for you.” 

“Those cheerleaders are vicious, man! Like lions and they knew I was weak. Ask Jason about it sometime. Cheerleaders grow up to be those blood-thirsty society mavens that go after him.” Kon realizes what he said a moment later when Tim's sharp gaze settles on him. 

He looks perplexed and half distracted. “You talk to Jason a lot, huh?” 

But before he can answer there's a crash somewhere down the hall. Somewhere they just set up their fourth camera. 

Tim turns and takes off at a sprint toward it. Kon knows enough about horror movies to know his partner would totally be the first to die, so he runs after him and resists the urge to draw his service weapon. Not like it would do any good against a ghost and he's just as likely to accidentally pull it on some hapless teacher as he is someone actually out to do them harm. 

It isn't a teacher. Kon isn't sure what it is except that there's a flash of white and a definite sense of wrongness in the air. He catches the sign out of the corner of his eye for the nurse’s office and then there's a camera hurtling at his head. One of their cameras, still attached to the tripod Tim carefully attached it to. 

Kon at least doesn't scream, but he holds his hands up to try and catch the damn thing. It's a pretty hardy camera, because it has to be, but that doesn't mean it can survive a trip ten feet down a hallway. 

“Hey!” Tim yells and for one thrilling moment Kon thinks he sees someone playing this not very funny prank on them. But of course, that's too much to ask for. This place is really getting to him. “That's not very nice!” Tim calls out. “We're only here to help you! What do you want?” 

There's no response. 

Tim glowers. “Let's set the camera up again,” he decides. “This hallway is clearly a hotspot. Maybe we can bolt it to the wall?” But he looks so delighted. Thrilled, even. “This is a really tangible ghost,” he says softly to Kon. “It can manifest that strongly!” 

Kon wisely keeps his mouth shut and helps him position the camera to the wall. They zip-tie it in a few places to secure it. He feels tongue tied. He knows you're not supposed to give the ghost power by acknowledging it before you're ready for it; that much he’s gleaned from Tim. He's not ready. For some reason, this ghost thing is bothering him more than the demon did. “I think we should check into the motel before they give our rooms away.” He's proud of how steady his voice sounds. 

He's also proud he didn't run screaming when something invisible threw the camera at him. It's the little victories. 

“Room,” Tim replies, checking the camera's batteries yet again. It's plugged into a power source but who knows how long that will last? He's not optimistic about getting any footage from it. “Just one. You promised Steph you'd keep an eye on me, right?” He looks over and Kon swears he's absolutely _smirking_ , even though his voice and expression is as bland as ever. “Besides, it's easier to take camera-watching shifts in one room.” 

Kon barely contains a groan. Of course, Tim would only book one room. Asshole. 

As they walk away from the nurse’s office, he swears he feels someone staring at the back of his neck, but when he turns around, the hallway is empty. 

*****

The motel isn't far down the road. It's a rundown affair that still manages to be clean enough that Kon isn't afraid to walk over the carpet on socked feet and have the bottoms turn black. There’s a restaurant and bar next door, which he’s seriously thinking about visiting in a little bit. He’s starving. 

The room is indeed singular. One room. One bed. It's definitely bigger than a normal-sized king and Kon is relieved enough not to argue too hard, but he wonders what game is afoot. Stephanie’s warning about Tim not being as clueless as he appears to be niggles at the back of his mind. 

Still, they’d be sleeping in shifts. Kon makes a point to set the alarm on his phone. If he goes to bed without it, Tim can and will stay up all night glued to his monitors. 

He sets down his duffle bag and inspects the dresser. It’s clean too, so he doesn’t feel any compunctions against unpacking. The motel is a little mom and pop kind of place, which explains the rundown exterior. But even Aunt Martha would be hard pressed to find a complaint about the cleanliness of the room. 

“You hungry?” he asks Tim. 

His partner has taken over the desk, setting up his laptop, two monitors, and an assortment of other wires and boxes he has no names for. Tim is a tech nerd of the highest order. 

“Yeah,” he replies, but doesn’t look up. “Gimme 15 minutes?” 

“Fine. I’ll grab a shower.” 

Kon takes his shaving kit into the bathroom. It too would pass the Martha Kent test. Good, he hates having to wear flip-flops when he showers. Too many memories of showering in the gym and the dorms. 

As he undresses, his phone pings. Taking it out, he sees a new message from Jason. 

**/How’s the magical mystery tour?/**

He chuckles. The man has impeccable timing. **/T’s already hot and bothered. He’s getting his nerd on right now./  
**

The reply comes back almost immediately. Kon finishes taking his pants off before he reads it. 

**/And what a fine looking nerd he is. Fucking clueless./**

Kon has no argument with that. While he’s still not entirely sure what he wants from Tim, Jason’s interest in him has been apparent since day one. He’s okay with that, really. The second adopted son of Bruce Wayne is a pretty cool guy, down to earth, and has a wicked sense of humor that he doesn’t hesitate to unleash on the world, especially after a few beers. The two of them have more in common than they thought at first and have become friends, even if they’re in the somewhat precarious position of being rivals for the affections of the still clueless Tim Drake. 

**/More like an asshole. He booked a single room. With one bed./**

He waits and leans against the cool tile of the counter, knowing Jason won’t disappoint. 

**/You lucky bastard./** There’s a emoji with a middle finger up that immediately follows. 

Kon huffs a quiet laugh and casts a glance at the bathroom door where his oblivious partner is working. 

**/The only one getting lucky is T. He’s already convinced we’ve seen a ghost./**

Jason must be on a break or something. His texts aren’t usually this rapid fire. 

**/Good thing you and your hand are already friends./**

**/Wait. You’ve already seen a ghost??/**

**/WTF, man?/  
**

Kon eyes the shower longingly. He’s afraid to turn it on as something tells him the hot water won’t last too long. 

**/One of T’s cameras went flying down the hallway outside the nurse’s office. Almost beaned me in the head./**

**/Fuck, but that’s some cool shit. Wish I was there./**

Wait, what? Since when was Jason a ghost enthusiast? He honestly thought this would be the last thing the man would be into considering his encounters of the more demonic kind. But then again, having a ghost throw a camera at you versus being tied down on a sacrificial altar about to have your body and soul devoured were two different things. 

Kon sighs and shakes his head. He’s supposed to be the voice of reason, there to keep Tim in line and not going off half-cocked or creating a mess for the bureau to clean up. As much as he wants to deny it, he can’t explain some of the things he’s seen since he and Tim partnered up. _You had to have been there_ isn’t a valid excuse on his reports to Director Lance. She’s already torn his ass up over the whole demon incident, even though Jason came through it in one piece. Bruised and a little bloody, not to mention very little clothing, but one piece. His dad didn't even threaten to sue. He sent a thank you muffin basket. 

**/So does S. We ditched her just outside of Gotham./**

**/You’re near Gotham?/**

Looks like Tim hasn’t told Jason where they’re at this time, despite the texts he knows his partner has been sending. Kon chews on his lip a moment, debating. He knows the man grew up in the city, just like Tim and Stephanie. While Arkham Asylum didn’t seem to ping much on either of their radars, he wonders if it did on Jason’s at all. 

**/We’re at Arkham Heights High School./  
**

Jason doesn’t disappoint. 

**/Jesus fuck. That school has one of the highest suicide and dropout rates in the fucking state./**

Huh, that was news to Kon. It didn’t surprise him that Jason knew this. The man was passionate about increasing funding for public schools and creating relevant curriculum to keep kids there instead of on the streets. He should know, he was raised on those streets (or raised himself on those streets, something like that) before Bruce Wayne took him in and adopted him. 

More texts arrive in quick succession. **  
**

**/My dickwad brother used to go there with his friends around Halloween before the school was built. Something about getting their spook on./**

**/I always thought it was bullshit and never went with. Thinking back on it though, the whole thing always gave me a bad vibe./**

**/I’ve heard rumors about the school being haunted, but didn’t believe them./**

**/Considering what I’ve been through, I may just change my mind on that…/**

So very true. Kon’s made up his mind about demons, but he’s still on the fence about ghosts. 

**/I don’t believe in ghosts, but that school is creepy./** Kon types back. **/I gotta run. Shower, then shove some food down T’s throat./**

He sets the phone down and finally turns on the shower. The water pressure is surprisingly good, but he was right about the hot water. Barely five minutes in and the temperature starts dropping. 

“Fuck,” he curses, just before it turns to ice. 

Rinsing quickly, he turns the water off. If he’d been tired at all before, he’s wide awake now. He pushes open the shower curtain and almost as fast, pulls it back shut when he sees Tim at the sink. 

“Dude!” Kon almost shouts, peeking out from behind the curtain. “Can’t a man shower in peace around here?” 

Tim is at the sink with a toothbrush in his mouth. “Wha?” he asks, blinking owlishly. He spits in the sink. “You were taking forever,” he says more clearly. 

“I was talking with Jason,” Kon snaps and reaches for a towel. He starts drying off behind the curtain. 

“Oh?” he hears Tim ask. “You guys talk often? In the shower?” There’s a hint of _something_ in his voice, something that makes Kon’s eyes narrow in suspicion as he remembers Stephanie’s words. 

He decides to take a risk. He’s an FBI agent, calculated risks are what he does. 

Kon towels off quickly, a talent years of showering with other men will teach a person, and wraps the towel around his waist. He opens the curtain and steps out. 

There’s no missing the way Tim’s eyes widen slightly. Kon knows he’s good looking. Not insanely handsome like Jason, but he’s well built in a way that only years of manual labor will do. He’d call himself rugged more than anything else. Stephanie has said he should audition to be a paper towel spokesman and he has no idea what that means but she was basically drooling when she said it. 

But as he walks across the small bathroom and past Tim to open the door, he can’t help but smirk as his partner follows his every move. 

“Yeah, we talk. Text mostly. We’ve gone out a few times when he’s been in town.” 

Speaking of text…Kon picks up his phone from the counter and taps the screen. There’s a single text from Jason that he must have sent while he was in the shower. 

**/I can think of something else I want to shove down Tim’s throat. ;)/**

It’s marked as unread, but it would be simple enough to tap the screen like he did to see the message without opening the app or accessing the rest of the device. He glances at Tim, who’s staring at his phone like it might bite him. 

Interesting. And also, not cool. He’s glad he has the touch ID turned on. 

Kon leaves the bathroom to get the clothes he forgot to bring with him. Behind him, he hears Tim rinsing out his mouth. He grabs a clean pair of boxers and drops the towel. It lands in a puddle around his feet. Another risk, but he keeps his movements casual. The two of them may have never shared a room before, but Tim has to remember Kon was a jock in school. Modesty is not a word in his vocabulary. 

He doesn’t turn around as he gets dressed, but he can _feel_ Tim’s weighted gaze on him. It's hard to keep the motions casual as he zips up his jeans and picks up the towel, running it once more over his damp hair before putting on a black t-shirt. 

As he turns around, he spots Tim standing in the bathroom doorway. “You get your stuff set up?” he asks, gesturing to the desk. 

Tim blinks like he’s coming out of a trance. “Y-yeah,” he says shakily. 

“Good. I’m starving.” 

***** 

The restaurant isn’t that impressive looking. It’s got some weird ocean, fisherman’s vibe to it, like a bad Red Lobster. Still, the menu’s not horrible, even if Kon is leery of ordering any seafood that’s not fried. The bar he spotted when he and Tim entered looks more promising. Knowing his partner, he’s positive he’ll be spending some time there. 

Tim yammers on about the encounter at the school earlier, seemingly recovered from whatever passed between them back in the motel room. Kon’s long since learned it doesn’t take much prompting to get him back on his favorite topic. Kon, meanwhile, finds the lighting of the place to be soothing and almost hypnotic. The shades of blue with brief bursts of yellow are like being beneath ocean water. At least, unpolluted ocean water. 

A fun fact he'd realized about his partner is that Tim eats basically anything. Especially when he's distracted. Kon once watched him swallow a handful of pencil shavings when he reached into that pile on his desk instead of the one with the dehydrated strawberries. Kon tries to feed him healthy food and he knows Steph and Jason try to feed him pretty much anything to keep him alive, but it's always been a source of fascination for Kon. Tim's like some kind of monk who has forgone his ability to enjoy earthly pleasures in his pursuit of something greater. 

Kon eats his fried fish strips in peace. Tim gets lobster bisque and, at his insistence, a salad. He refuses to accept that _coffee additions_ is not a food group, but ghost hunting is going to be hungry work. “Jason's heard of the high school,” he informs Tim when he feels brave enough.  He doesn't want him to think their conversations are too off the wall. Or leave him to speculate overly much. “Said it has a high dropout and suicide rate.” 

“You told Jason where we are?” Damn it. But Tim's not shrieking. Or throwing anything at him. 

“Uhm,” Kon replies. “I'm not exactly sure how to answer that.” Maybe order a few of what passes for a lobsterita in this place. He hopes it's really a margarita and that it's strong. 

Tim spears a piece of tomato out of his salad with a vengeance. “I wanted to tell him later. Keep him as a potentially untapped resource.” 

Untapped. _Right._ Kon knows for a fact that Jason swings both ways. 

“It's not like he's in town, anyway,” he argues, but he sounds like he's trying to reassure the other man. 

“What else did he say?” Tim asks, then clarifies. “About the case.” 

This has to be some kind of trap. “Not a lot,” Kon admits. “That his older brother used to go to the site after it was an asylum but before they built the school.  That it was some spooky rite of passage spot. Jason never went though. Said it gave him a bad feeling.” 

Tim slurps up a spoonful of his soup. “Makes sense. Jason was kind of a lightning rod for weird things even before what happened.” That's how they refer to it in polite company. “Now he's basically a supernatural magnet. There are theories about why it happens but usually once you have an encounter? You have more. That's why spirit mediums are in business. The authentic ones, mind you.” 

“A lightning rod for weird things,” Kon repeats slowly. He feels like they've had this conversation before and they probably did have a similar one. One he blocked out, because he hadn't really cared about Jason except as a potential murder victim they needed to save. “Like you?” 

“I wish.” Tim eats a few more spoonfuls of his soup. It must be good enough for him to pause in the conversation to do so. He pairs it with a bite of salad and Kon is almost bursting with pride. “I'm always on the outside looking in. I had to look for my first encounter so it doesn't increase my chances of subsequent encounters. The first one has to be natural for it to count.” He looks forlorn. Maybe it's because he's reached the bottom of his bisque bowl, but Kon doubts it. 

He feels the irrational need to comfort him, even from this. Maybe he feels a little guilty for the towel incident. “But look where that got Jason. Only bad places, right?” His stomach twists a little at it even now. He glances to his phone, as though Jason will have been summoned by the thought. 

Tim just shakes his head. “We need a game plan for tonight.” He tilts his head, that familiar smile back on his lips. “You should be good at game plans, right? As a jock? Are you going to stuff me in a locker?” 

“I'm considering it right now.” It would be for his own protection, really. “I thought you'd take the first shift watching the monitors. Then I'd wake up about three to do it?” That way he can stay up and judge when to wake Tim. 

Probably, his partner sees through his plan. But Tim is nodding. “I'm interested to see if the ghosts are more active at night or during the day, as well as if they like performing for an audience. Almost all of the incidences attributed to them are during the day but that makes sense because it's a school. No one's there at night.” 

Kon nods, and pays the check when it arrives. They walk back to the motel and the entire way, he can see that Tim is texting Jason. The contact picture is just too obvious not to notice. He would be lying if he said he didn't try to read the text, but Tim isn't squirming or making faces like when he's arguing. It's a good sign. 

****

Kon goes to sleep with a promise for Tim to wake him if he needs him. He checks his phone alarm over again to make sure it’s on. He's surprised when the bed is comfortable and it's remarkably easy to fall asleep. 

The alarm goes off too soon. Tim is reading a novel and glancing at the screen off and on, which doesn't bode well for his levels of boredom for the next few hours. Nor does the fact that Tim willingly goes to bed. 

He stands up and shucks the pajama pants he's been wearing. Tim wears briefs, not even boxer briefs, and Kon's eyes rake over his form. Bare legs and the underwear and a little strip of stomach before he pulls his t-shirt back down. Tim runs fingers through his hair and shakes it out before removing his glasses. Kon loves those glasses. He so rarely gets to see them except when they’re working a case that requires long hours. 

If he didn't know better, he would swear that Tim is, in fact, paying him back. But his partner seems entirely free of guile as he crawls onto the bed and slides under the covers. 

It gives Kon something to think about with what does indeed turn out to be a very, very boring shift. Apparently, the ghosts aren't aware that midnight is the typical witching hour. It means they're going to have to go in person; there's nothing to analyze. 

**/Hope you had a better night than I'm having./** Kon texts Jason, heedless of the time. It's not even an hour later that he gets a response. Jason must be having one of those nights where he's struggling to get some peace. 

**/At least you get to watch Tim sleep?/**

**/No that sounded creepy./**

**/You know what I mean./  
**

He does. It's maybe a little alarming. Except... **/How did you know what I'm doing?/  
**

It’s slightly unsettling when he gets a reply picture of himself. Himself, sound asleep in the very bed Tim is at now, hugging a pillow to his chest in a death grip. **/Tim was concerned you were going to rip it in half. Nothing weird/**

**/I’ve got a body pillow at home I do that to when I’m stressed./** He finally texts back. The pillow helps. Gives him something to cling to when he’s alone and the nightmares are particularly bad. Those are the nights where he finds himself eagerly awaiting the gym opening so he can punch them back into submission. He’s not the only agent who does it; those haunted eyes are a dead giveaway. 

Tim’s found him there before, when he finally notices what time it is and how long Kon has been gone and goes on a search. He keeps his crazy under wraps on those days. He appreciates it. 

**/Yeah, I feel ya on that one, man. The fucking bar is closed and the gym here doesn’t have a punching bag./**

Kon reads the reply wearily. If there’s one man who understands, it’s Jason Wayne. His nightmares must be the stuff of legends. 

**/We’re the poster children for healthy coping mechanisms./**

**/LMFAO. So tell me, what does Timmy wear to bed?/**

He chuckles at the change of subject, welcoming it gladly. **/A t-shirt and tighty whiteys./**

**/Oh fuck me, there’s an image. Pic?/**

Kon glances back at the bed. He wishes he could oblige, especially considering Tim sent one of him to Jason, but his partner has all the blankets wrapped up tight around his body like he’s in the middle of a cocoon. From this angle, the only thing he could make out is wisps of black hair against the white pillowcase. 

**/He’s in the middle of a blanket burrito. Maybe I can get one when he wakes up and before he’s had coffee./**

**/Fair enough./**

The two men text back and forth for another hour before Jason finally says he’s going to try and catch a nap before his morning meeting. He’d let slip he’s in New York right now, so Kon didn’t feel too horrible about keeping him from anything. It was a well-known fact Jason hates anything to do with business, but he’s a Wayne and until his younger brother graduates college, he has to go and be the face of his family’s company when his dad isn’t available. 

He vaguely remembers something about Jason’s older brother becoming a cop in Bludhaven of all places and a sister about the same age as him being a dancer of some kind. Ballet, was it? They’d been getting drunk at the time, so the memory is kind of hazy. 

How is this his life, he wonders, turning his attention back on the monitors where absolutely _nothing_ is going on. With any other person, he’d be sizing him up and trying to get the upper hand so that he’s the one who comes out on top. Kon is the first to admit he doesn’t have a lot of experience with guys as he was definitely a ladies man back in high school. College changed that, opening his eyes to what else is out there. 

Whatever it is, it’s not normal, he knows that. Maybe it’s Tim. Maybe it’s Jason. Still, Kon knows that if Jason comes out victorious, he won’t begrudge the men their happiness. He’s still Tim’s partner and that’s not a bond that is easily broken.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“This is getting ridiculous,” Tim mutters, glaring daggers at the red dodgeball rolling slowly down the hallway away from him. 

Kon begs to differ. The entire thing is fucking hilarious. 

They had arrived at the school bright and early, right around the time the bells would be ringing for first period to start. Five hours of sleep was pretty decent for Tim and Kon made sure breakfast and coffee were waiting for him when he woke him up. He did manage to get a picture for Jason and sent it off to him. 

The school was still eerily quiet, but Kon chalked it up to being empty. Despite his lack of sleep, he felt pretty good this morning. They walked around, Tim checking on his equipment and changing out battery packs as needed, but nothing happened, not even when they walked by the nurse’s office. 

It was when they did a round through the gym that something finally occurred. A red ball, the bouncy inflatable kind used by schools around the US for dodgeball and kickball, the bane of a nerd’s existence, came flying out of nowhere and beaned Tim in the back of the head. 

Kon couldn’t help the laugh that burst out at the bug-eyed expression of shock on his partner’s face. Tim immediately turned tail and went in search of where the ball came from and who could have thrown it at him. 

They found the equipment storage room, still locked when Kon used the master key Tom the maintenance man had given them yesterday. Inside, everything looked normal to his eyes, but he quickly spotted the rolling cage where the red balls were stored. The lid was closed, but it was readily obvious one was missing from the full container. 

Tim grumbled as he put the ball back. He wanted to keep it for evidence. Kon had to lecture him on underfunded public schools and what Jason would say. 

But the ball seemingly had a mind of its own as it kept appearing throughout the day, randomly bouncing off Tim as though someone were throwing it from behind him. 

They’re outside the cafeteria at the moment, almost as far as they could be from the gym and still be on campus. Why they were so far apart, Kon has no idea. It didn’t make sense to him to keep food away from starving athletes. 

“Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.” Kon grins at Tim as the man rubs the back of his head. 

His partner turns that glare on him. “Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern. Get it right,” he snaps. 

“I like James Bond better,” Kon replies flippantly. 

“You would.” Tim heaves a massive sigh. “Why does this keep happening to me? It’s like high school all over again.” 

Kon has no answer for that besides the obvious. “Well, we’re in a high school.” 

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Tim grumbles. “It's not like they had high schools or even kickballs in 1921.” 

What’s obvious is that Tim’s getting cranky over having said balls thrown at him all day and not recording a single encounter. He’s repositioned a few cameras (leaving the ones in the library and the hallway outside the nurse’s office where they are) to see if he can catch something, but the only thing he’s catching is a headache. 

“Hey, dude. Chill out. If it helps, I was never a bully.” He could have been, and easily considering the crowd he hung out with, but Uncle Jon instilled little things like _values_ , and _ethical behavior_ , not to mention encouraging his already strong sense of justice. Small wonder he turned out the way he did. 

“No, it doesn’t.” 

Kon rolls his eyes. Petulant and pissy Tim is someone he hates dealing with. Luckily, the cure is simple enough, but maybe not easy since the nearest place to buy coffee is a few miles away. Maybe the teacher’s lounge has a coffeemaker he can commandeer. 

“Why don’t you go outside and walk it off?” he suggests. “Take a nap in the car.” 

“I’m not a child,” Tim hisses, rubbing his temples in a sure sign he’s either got a headache or is suffering from caffeine withdrawal. Probably both at this point. He’d finished his thermos full of coffee when they ate lunch in his SUV earlier. “You can't just put me down for a nap.” 

“Then stop acting like one,” Kon orders. He’s starting to get annoyed. 

His partner makes a frustrated sound, glares pointedly at the ball, and stalks off towards the library. 

Kon watches him for a moment before he walks away, back towards the main office. He remembers seeing a sign for the teacher’s lounge around there. A few minutes of alone time will do wonders for Tim's composure. 

The windows lining one side of the hallway face west, so late afternoon sunlight gives the hall an almost golden glow. Dust mites dance in the air. The patches of light are interspersed with blocks of shadow where the outside wall interrupts the windows. As he walks, he idly wonders what part of the school was built with materials (probably brick) from the old asylum. He makes a mental note to search some of the old survey maps tonight during his shift watching the monitors to see if there had been a cemetery on the property and what happened to it. 

The whole thing with the balls proves nothing, he thinks to himself. Someone else has to be here. Someone is playing a pretty epic prank on the FBI agents and they just haven't caught them. Nothing else has happened today. No weird temperature readings, no more cameras being thrown at _his_ head. Tim's an easy target; Kon kind of wants to throw a ball at him too. 

He turns a corner and heads down another hallway, leaving the sunlight behind. The way ahead is lit only by the emergency lights overhead, every third florescent panel lighting the way. Kon absently rubs his arms as the temperature changes, growing colder the more he walks away from the windows. The sun, weak though it is in the afternoon and fighting to get through the still leaf-covered trees (the colors were eye-catching; someone had a thing for maples), made the previous stretch of hall warm. 

As he passes another branch of the main hallway, he spots a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Kon turns sharply to stare down the dimly lit path. 

About twenty feet from him, in the middle of the hall, stands a young girl. She’s in one of the unlit sections, but he can still clearly see her frilly white dress and golden curls. 

His gut clenches and the hair on the back of his neck prickles. Every warning instinct his body is capable of signals _danger_ at him. He wonders why, as the child seems harmless enough, but then he sees her eyes. 

Black soulless pits stare back at him. 

His mind reels at the implication of what he’s seeing, but he tries to rein it in. Kon is the cool, logical one after all. He’s the one Director Lance chose to keep Tim in line. 

He does not believe in ghosts. 

Standing tall, Kon forces a friendly smile onto his face. A medical condition. She probably has a medical condition. “Hi there,” he says. “Are you looking for someone?” 

The child slowly approaches. When she hits a patch of light, there’s a popping sound and the florescent light overhead shorts out. 

His brain is screaming at him to run away. 

He tries again, forcing himself to kneel so that he’s on her level instead of towering over her. “My name’s Conner. I’m an FBI agent. What’s your name?” 

The air around them is freezing. Kon idly notes he can see his breath. That can't be right. 

_“Harriet,”_ a low, sibilant voice whispers. It doesn’t seem to come from the girl, but rather, from all around him, like the voice is part of the building itself. 

For all he knows, it is. 

“Hello, Harriet,” Kon says. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

The child grins and it does absolutely grotesque things to her face. Normally when a child smiles, he wants to grin back.  A laughing, happy child is one of his favorite things. Like whiskers on kittens and warm woolen mittens. But there are no bright copper kettles or packages with strings. He can't even rhyme what she's doing. He stares, the smile on his face falling as Harriet grins not with her mouth, but with her neck. 

The raw, gaping wound widens where her head had been removed by Mad Dog Hawkins all those years ago. 

_“Hello, Conner,”_ the voice says. Now he knows why he can’t hear anything from her. She doesn’t have vocal cords anymore. _“Play with me?”_

This has to be a prank. Whoever’s been throwing balls at Tim all day is taking their turn with messing with him. Right? _Right?_

“I’d love to, but I’m working right now,” Kon replies, trying to keep his tone easy and gentle even though he can’t fake a smile to save his life at the moment. His voice sounds a pitch higher than it normally is. 

_“Play with me,”_ she orders, the voice hardening. The air around them grows even colder. 

“Are you the one who’s been throwing balls at my partner all day?” he asks instead. “You wanted him to play with you?” 

She’s maybe ten feet from him now. This close, Kon can make out little details on her dress, like the pale pink rosettes on the hem around her knees and the green vines connecting them. He was willing to bet her mother made her that dress. The same details are probably around the collar too, but it’s stained red. 

Not bright red like Hollywood would have people believe blood looks when it hits fabric. No, it’s dark, almost black in the dim light. 

Whoever is playing this prank deserves an Oscar for special effects. Kon seriously wants to shoot them right now. 

_“He wants to get rid of us. He needs to go.”_

Well, fuck. If that isn’t a threat, he doesn’t know what is.

“My partner and I are a matched pair,” he replies easily. “Where one of us goes, the other follows.” 

Kon realizes how wrong that statement is as the child grins wider, this time with her mouth. Little white teeth somehow shine on their own.

 _“You are alone now. Play with ME!!!!!!”_ With that, Harriet rushes towards him, her arms wide like she’s about to hug him. 

He’s seen his little cousin Jon do the same thing when he comes to visit him, and Clark, and his wife Lois in Metropolis. He normally lets the kid tackle him to the ground and then tickles him back until he screams uncle. 

There’s nothing childlike about this hug. 

Kon’s pretty sure he lets out a shout, possibly even a scream he didn’t think his voice capable of, as a solid wall of _ice_ hits him, the girl’s rictus grin centimeters from his face before he closes his eyes and hits the ground. 

~*~*~ 

There's a screeching noise in his head. A thousand blackbirds crying in unison, beating their wings around his head. It echoes inside his skull, deafening and maddening at once. 

“Kon!” His name is in the screams. No, not in them, behind them. A layer of sound further away. “Damn it, Kon!” He thinks maybe the wings in his head are carrying him away. He feels like he's floating. 

“Kon, wake up. Open your eyes.” A different voice. Kon's brow furrows a bit. “I'm going to call an ambulance,” The voice decides and that does get him to crack open his eyes a little bit. Beyond the hallucination or vision or whatever it is, he knows he does _not_ want that to have to happen. Any medical attention with Tim is always awkward and bewildering. 

“Motherfucker.” That isn't Tim. Kon's eyes focus on dark hair first, but it's far too wavey and well-groomed to be Tim's. The swear is relieved and emphatic. “You scared the fucking shit out of us.” Jason. Jason is here. When did he get here? 

He tries to get his eyes to blink in unison instead of one at a time. He's sitting up with some assistance, but his chest feels heavy. He's cold all over and he's _sticky_. A glance downward shows that he's absolutely covered in a shimmery substance. It's pearlescent, sparkling in the flickering light. Pale gray like spider webs. Was there a giant spider? “What happened?” 

Oh God. Oh God, now he remembers. 

Tim swims into his vision, hovering nearby on the balls of his feet. “We were hoping you could tell us. We just heard a yell and couldn't find you.” 

“I think that was the echo of you screaming obscenities at me while you stoned me with dodgeballs like a witch,” Jason points out. “Which was still not cool, Timmy.” 

“I told you I thought you were the ghost that kept hitting me with them!” Tim protests. “What were you doing sneaking around anyway? Actually, why are you even here? I thought you were in New York?” 

Jason waves dismissively with his free hand. The other is still on Kon's back, keeping him upright. “Talk about that later. Right now, I want to know how many cans of silly string it took to cover him.” 

They both look expectantly at Kon. “It's not silly string,” he manages to mutter. “It's...” He doesn't know what it is. “There was a girl,” he begins awkwardly. “I thought she needed help.” He remembers her smile and a spray of something cold. It sounds unbelievable. Maybe it had been silly string and a prank. 

“Blonde ringlets?” Jason asks. “White dress?” Kon can only nod. “I saw her too. She asked me to come play and then ran down a hallway, but I was looking for Tim.” 

Tim makes an agonized noise. For a moment Kon fears demon possession, especially since he’s is pulling at a fistful of his hair. “I can't believe this! You,” he stabs an accusing finger at Jason, “Are here less than five minutes and get an instant ghost encounter. And you!” This time he actually pokes Kon in the shoulder. “You don't believe in all of this and not only do you have physical contact, you end up covered in evidence! How is this fair? All day I've been nothing but nice and I just keep getting hit with a ball!” 

Kon cringes. “She said she wants to get rid of you since you want to get rid of them.” He sighs. This is typical Tim. “I'm fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.” 

That's what makes Tim soften. Kon's feelings are kind of hurt, all things considered. He knows his partner gets really intense tunnel vision on cases. Sometimes to the detriment of their partnership. It doesn't make it easier to deal with when Kon is shaken up and Tim hasn't even offered a helping hand. If he hadn't heard the genuine panic in his voice before he was fully conscious he would be even more offended. 

“Are you sure you're okay?” Tim asks, a little guiltily but not grudgingly. 

“Yeah.” Jason almost has him to his feet and he's grateful for the man's bulk heaving him around. “Freezing, though. Is it cold in here?” 

Tim rests a gentle hand on him. “You're like ice. We should get you back to the motel and cleaned up.” 

They limp back down the hallway, away from where Kon had seen the girl. It's nearly full dark outside; had he really been unconscious that long? Why hadn't Tim and Jason found him sooner? But those are questions to ask when his brain isn't entirely frozen and he's not a shivering wreck of humanity. 

Kon is basically vibrating with cold by the time they make it back to the motel, even with the heater on full blast. Tim drives the SUV, Jason drives his car. Somehow, the smaller man manages to wrestle him inside all on his own. He is both impressed and a little guilty that his partner has to do it, but Tim is stronger than he looks. Physically and emotionally. 

Jason arrives a minute after they do, and his teal eyes are serious as he looks Kon over. "You doing alright, man? You look a little blue. Like your lips and the tips of your ears are in Smurf territory."

"They are not," Tim counters before he turns on another lamp and frowns. "They're just a little bit blue." He reaches out, touching Kon's face, then dabbing at the slime covering him. "I'd expect it to be cold, but it's not," he murmurs, spreading the substance between his fingers. "You're like ice, but the stuff on you is warm. Perhaps it leeches body heat?”

Kon's teeth chatter in response. Jason watches Tim's slime-covered fingers like something might happen. "Let's get him in the shower," he decides. "Crank the heat up and then have him drink some tea or something. This can't be good for him." 

"Right here," Kon reminds them. "I can hear you." He feels like he's been in the snow for hours. The chill is sinking into his bones. "But yeah. Shower." Hot water running over him is sounding like heaven right now and he edges toward the modestly sized bathroom. His shoes feel like he has lead in them. Tim sighs and kneels down, starting to untie them for him. 

"I'll go get the tea, then," Jason decides after surveying the room and realizing there's not an electric kettle to be found. "Think you can handle the shower without busting your skull open?" That question, at least, is directed toward Kon. 

He tries to nod. He feels like he only blinks and Jason is out of the room and he's in the doorway to the bathroom with Tim, who is brandishing a thermometer at him. "Open," he orders, nudging it at his mouth. It's bright green and has a frog on the end. A demented looking frog. At least that means it's digital. Kon knows because he brought Tim the damn set during one cold and flu season when he refused to admit that he was running a fever. "Sanitized and everything," Tim adds but he's already pushing the metal tip under Kon's tongue and hitting the button.

"I don't nee-" Kon starts to protest and Tim reaches up and taps his jaw. 

"Lips closed," he informs him. It only takes thirty seconds to get an accurate read, but Kon is having trouble staying upright. All he can think of is the shower. Of getting these clothes off. At least the slime doesn't smell. He's been covered in terrible things while working with Tim, almost all of them reeking in some way. "95.7," Tim notes grimly. "We need to get you warmed up. Like really warmed up." 

Kon's fingers are functioning well enough that he can strip. He does so as soon as Tim releases him, letting the smaller man get the shower going. Kon scrambles in, moaning in an obscene way as soon as the hot water hits his back. "Oh geez," he whispers, feeling at last like he might thaw out. "What is this stuff?" Most of the slime was on his clothes, but he feels like it's also soaked into his skin. He sloughs a handful of it off his shoulder and flings it to the floor of the tub, hoping it doesn't clog the pipes. 

It's then he realizes that Tim is still in the room. Not only in the room but staring at him. Those gorgeous blue eyes are focused on his body and Kon can't help but feel a little self-conscious. He kind of wants to remind Tim that he's cold and just went through a trauma. He also wants to pull the curtain between them. But there's something in Tim's face. A heat. A _lust_ that makes him tingle in ways that have nothing to do with frozen parts of him warming back up in the spray of water. 

"Kon," Tim breathes, lips parted. His tongue flicks out to wet them, just in like the dirtier and more embarrassing fantasies he's had about his partner. 

"Tim." He's proud his voice holds steady. That he most definitely isn't flashing back to a gaping neck wound and black-pit eyes. No, nothing is going to ruin this moment. Kon shifts in the shower, rolls his shoulders back so the water streams down his defined chest. He idly wonders what brought this on. Maybe Tim realized how loyal he was. Maybe fear of losing him has made him think there's no time like the present. Tim has moved closer to him, lifting up a hand to touch. Kon moves to wash off another layer of the substance coating him. 

"No!" Tim yells, lunging for him. Kon gives a frightened little yip then, sluggish brain trying to catch his partner with one arm and keep himself upright with the other. "Don't wash it off," he says. "I need a sample!"

It takes a moment for it to set in what he means. Then Kon realizes that Tim wasn't looking at him, but at the slime. "You got a sample," he replies without any inflection. It's all he can think of first. He specifically remembers Tim with little containers and a sterile spatula scraping it up back at the school. 

Tim's nodding like Kon's the crazy man in this situation. "But look! It turned colors!" And, sure enough, Kon's skin is now abnormally pink. The gray has melted away to show something obnoxiously bright and just as shimmery. "I wonder if it was the skin contact or the heat that caused it," he murmurs, and Kon soon finds himself standing there, awkward and naked, while Tim uses a broken cotton swab to scrape him down. He holds his hands in front of his groin, but he might as well be a mannequin for all the attention he pays his nudity. Tim is so close that Kon can feel his breath against his nipple and droplets of water are splattering off his shoulders and into Tim's hair. He's still _freezing_. 

"Are you done?" Kon asks and is sure his impatience shows through. "Because I'd kind of like not to have ghost barf or silly string or insulation foam or whatever it is all over me anymore." The water is already getting tepid. He wants to cry. He wants to scream. He wants to frantically masturbate because his body was so sure that all his longings were about to be answered and all his questions put to rest. 

There's a pause when he thinks Tim might have some shame. "Did this stuff come out of her mouth? Is that why you think it's vomit?" 

Kon grits his teeth and turns around, dislodging Tim and putting his chest into the spray of the shower head so he can scrub at his skin. He pauses to get a handful of body wash and aggressively works it into a foam. "Just get out." 

Tim slinks out with his samples. Kon jerks the shower curtain closed.  

*****

Kon's teeth are chattering again by the time there's no more warmth to be had. The water heater has given its best which, frankly, was pathetic but it may have saved his life. He wraps himself up in a couple of towels for a moment before spotting the neatly folded boxers and shirt draped over the laundry rack. Tim's peace offering.  

He gets dressed and trudges out, wondering if the room has gotten colder in his absence. Tim is sitting at the desk with all the equipment. Jason is on the edge of the bed, his hand on Tim's knee. He removes it upon seeing Kon. "You're still not exactly looking like a farm-fed corn boy," Jason informs him. "I kept your tea warm.” 

"It's corn-fed farm boy," Kon counters, but he gratefully takes the mug of tea between his fingers. The first sip burns his mouth and he doesn't even taste it. He doesn't care. It’s warm and that’s all that matters right now. 

Tim holds up the same frog thermometer from before. Kon sighs and opens his mouth, because he's clinging to his steaming mug like an absolute life line. Jason smirks at him and he’s positive this is going to be blackmail material later. 

"96.1. Not great. We need to warm you up.” 

Kon eyes the bed longingly, then glances at Jason. He’s not sure if either of the two men have ever dealt with someone who’s hypothermic before, but he has. Growing up in rural Kansas will do that. The winters can be brutal. 

Jason gets the hint and stands up. “It’s snuggle time,” he announces, pulling back the comforter and sheets. He starts getting undressed. 

Tim gapes. That’s the only way Kon could describe it. His eyes whip back and forth between him and Jason so fast he’s concerned he might be having a seizure. “What?” he finally manages to ask. 

“He’s hypothermic, moron,” Jason explains, ripping off his tie. He’s dressed for the office, suit and tie, the whole nine yards. It’s a good look for him, even though Kon may have accidently ruined the jacket with ghost vomit. “A bath might raise his core temp, but you don’t have one. So, we share body heat until he’s back to what passes for normal.”  

“Thanks,” Kon mutters around his tea. He sips it slowly as he unashamedly watches Jason strip down to his underwear. He’s been traumatized, he’s not firing on all cylinders. The man wears boxer briefs and the dark red fabric does nothing to hide the package underneath. 

There’s a sharp in-take of breath from Tim as he notices too. 

Yeah…there’s nothing wrong with staring at the perfection of those muscles. And those thighs…how did Kon not notice those thighs before? Right, they were running for their lives at the time. He was too busy to notice Jason's nudity. He's regretting that now. 

He finishes his tea and sets the cheap mug down on the desk. The shirt he’d so recently put on is pulled over his head and he just flops bonelessly down onto the bed. He can't wait to be warm, and Jason looks so, so warm. He wants to steal it. 

Tim makes another little noise, this one somewhat strangled sounding. 

Jason lays down on the bed and tugs Kon towards the center, arranging sheets and the comforter over them. He’s quiet, but his teal eyes are dancing in suppressed laughter. 

Kon gets it. He really does. His back is to Tim right now, so he can’t see the expression on his partner’s face right now, but if Jason’s reaction is anything to go by, it must be _gold_. He burrows into Jason’s chest, letting the man wrap strong arms around him. Revenge is sweet. 

He was right. He’s so _warm_. Kon can’t help but whimper. 

“Hey, I got you,” Jason whispers, running a hand through his damp black hair. “You’re safe, Kon. Timmy and I ain’t gonna let anyone or _anything_ hurt you.” 

There’s a slight dip in the bed as Tim sits down behind him. His slender hand rests carefully on Kon’s shoulder. “Maybe I should go get him some soup…” he tries, but Jason’s arms tighten as he glares over his head at the man. 

“Get undressed and get your ass in here. We’re not fuckin’ around, Tim.” There’s a sharp edge to the Wayne heir’s voice, one that’s used to being obeyed. It must be incredibly effective in the board room. 

There’s silence behind him, but then the bed shifts again as Tim stands. He hears a rustle of clothing and then the sheets lift as his partner slides in to bed. 

Tim is awkward and won’t touch him at first. Kon and Jason exchange an eye roll before Kon shifts and forces himself to rollover and face his partner. Tim’s eyes widen as he does. 

“Rollover, numb-nuts,” he mutters. 

He wonders for a brief moment if they've pushed too far before Tim complies and Kon latches on, pulling him close as he spoons him from behind. Jason does the same to him, wrapping those long arms securely around him and tangling their legs together. 

Tim is all kinds of stiff in his arms, but slowly relaxes as time passes. 

It takes a while, but Kon finally starts feeling warm. He’s tired, so very tired, so he lets himself fall asleep tucked between the two men.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Kon’s not sure what time it is when he wakes up, but the room is dark save for the light from the bathroom and the odd glow from Tim’s computer monitors. He’s warm, almost too warm, with Jason's arms still wrapped around him.

The digital clock on the nightstand reads a little past nine. He vaguely remembers it was dark when they got back to the motel, so he couldn’t have been out more than three hours.

He shifts and the cage of Jason’s arms loosens. “You awake?” the man murmurs from behind him.

“Yeah,” Kon breathes.

“Tim bolted about an hour ago,” Jason says. “Got dressed, grabbed his phone, and almost ran out the door.”

“Probably calling Stephanie,” he replies with a yawn. “He does that when he’s having emotions he doesn’t know how to process. She's like a translator for the emotionally crippled."

“I know you didn’t see it earlier, but he looked like he wanted to devour us.” Jason’s breath tickled in his ear. “In a good way. Not in a cannibalistic way.” Sad that they have to specify these things now.

“You sure it wasn’t just you?” Kon asks. It’s a pleasant thought, Tim wanting them both. He knows he’s good looking and well built, but even he’ll admit Jason’s a better catch in the looks department.

“His eyes were doing that thing where he looks like he’s about to have a seizure.”

Kon chuckles. It’s nice to know he’s not the only one who thinks Tim does that. He stretches lazily. Jason is still pressed in close, so he feels warm skin against his back and the strong, bare thigh pressed between his knees. It’s wrong, but he lets himself rock once, ever so slightly against it, playing it off as part of the stretch.

“Hey Kon?” Jason asks quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Stop me if you don’t want this.” That’s all the warning he’s given before warm lips dance along the skin of his neck.

Kon’s heart starts racing, but this time, he welcomes it. He’s not sure if it’s the adrenaline, or the shock of what happened to him earlier, but right now, he needs something that makes him feel _alive_.

He rocks again against Jason’s leg, this time not trying to hide the motion in the slightest. “Jason,” he breathes as the man’s hand starts working its way up from his stomach to tease at his chest, eventually finding a nipple to tug and twist. The touch is light at first, but grows firmer the more Kon starts bucking.

Friction is a wonderful thing, he decides. In the few sexual encounters he’s had with men, he’s been the one in Jason’s position, the big spoon so to speak. The man only has an inch or so on him in height, but damn, he could get used to this.

Jason’s hand starts trailing south and traces around the waistband of his boxers.

“Yes,” Kon hisses, trying to move so that he can reach for Jason and drag him down to kiss him. He needs this. _Wants it_. If Tim won’t, and Jason’s offering, then why not?

The two men twist around, Kon ending up on his back with Jason looming over him. There’s no disguising the desire on the other man’s face as he stares down at him. “Tell me what you want, Kon.”

“Anything. Everything.” He reaches up and tries to drag Jason down to kiss him, but the man doesn’t budge, although he does rock his hips against him, his half hard length pressing into his.

Kon gasps, the motion doing nothing to clear his head.

“My bag’s still in my car,” Jason says, leaning in and planting a teasing kiss on the tip of his nose.

“In my shaving kit. Lube and a few condoms.”

Jason’s lips meet his this time, gentle for only a moment before Kon starts pressing more aggressively against him. He buries a hand in the man’s soft curls, wishing for only a moment that his hair was a little longer and straighter.

But he shoves that thought aside. This is not Tim. This is Jason, who’s willing to help him and isn’t running screaming from it. And Kon does so need to be helped in this moment. He needs _something_.

Jason tears himself away from Kon’s kiss. “Looks like that corn-fed mouth of yours is good for somethin’,” he says, his voice husky as he breathes heavily.

“I can show you what else it’s good for,” Kon replies, reaching down and palming Jason through the front of his briefs. He can feel his cock harden at the touch.

There’s no mistaking the flash of heat in the man’s eyes. “Be right back,” he whispers, stealing another brief kiss from Kon before he darts off to the bathroom.

Kon has a moment to lay there and think about what he’s going to do. Sucking cock, not a big deal. But he’s never bottomed before and the thought makes him squirm a bit in the not so good way. So maybe he isn’t quite willing to do everything. Should probably clarify that.

Jason returns to the bed quickly, but before he slips back in, he stands where Kon can see him and slowly removes his briefs. Kon stares and swallows hard. He’s not sure if he’s more turned on by the perfect V- cut of Jason’s muscles or the dick rising out of a nest of coarse black hair.

“About that everything…” Kon says once Jason’s settled back in above him.

The man smirks. “Have a second of clarity there?”

Kon resists the urge to smack him. “I’ve never been on the bottom before,” he says quickly.

“That’s fine,” Jason replies, kissing the corner of his mouth. “How about I take you for a ride instead, farm boy?”

“Fuck, yes.” Kon tugs him back down, mouths meeting again in a glorious battle for control. Jason is so warm, and even the faint taste of the cigarettes the man can’t seem to stop smoking isn’t enough to turn him away.

He shoves at his boxers, pushing them down. It occurs to him that this is not at all how things should happen. He should be with Tim, if he's going to be with anyone. It's Tim's smile he watches for, that he cherishes for how rare the more genuine ones are. It's his partner he's been mooning after. It's his wedding to Tim that Stephanie has been not so creepily planning behind their backs.

But then he's naked, and Jason is naked on top of him. Jason is attractive, to put it mildly. Jason has a wickedly sharp sense of humor and he's clever and kind. Kinder than he has any right to be with all the shit that's happened in his life. And when Kon was basically about to freeze to death? He'd been the one to jump in to save him. Not Tim.

Still, Tim is why they know each other in the first place.

“You look like we're doing it in a church and the nun choir is about to come in,” Jason murmurs to him. The words aren't erotic in the least, but they're whispered into the shell of his ear with such feeling that Kon shivers anyway. “Second thoughts?”

“Of course not.” He grips a fist of Jason's hair, pulling him down. He can feel that muscular arm move between them and it takes only a heartbeat before he realizes what Jason is doing. Fingering himself. For Kon. For Kon to have sex with him. In his ass.

The bluntness of his own thoughts is startling enough, but it's paired with the door swinging open. That's pretty much enough to make Kon's brain short circuit as Tim stomps into the room, clearly in a mood. “An entire day! He's taking more than twenty-four hours to get here!” Tim pauses in his rant and looks over at the bed.

It’s plain to see when he starts to process the scene. He sees his partner, prone and naked on his back on the bed. He sees his long time crush straddling said partner, two fingers buried in his own ass, with an erection as desperate as that of the man beneath him.

“Who is?” Jason asks, because that's obviously the thing you do when the object of your unrequited lust and affection walks in on you about to have sex with your rival for said affection.

“The exorcist,” Tim murmurs. His brain finally seems to catch up to his eyes, which is when he shrieks and turns a shade of red akin to a tomato. He turns around, hard enough that he trips himself and falls, nearly whacking his head on the corner of the dresser. The piece of furniture wobbles dangerously, but it fortunately doesn't fall over to crush him. That would just be too insulting. “Oh God,” he puffs. “Oh my God. I can go. I'm sorry. I'm leaving.” He's already crawling back toward the door, groping blindly.

Kon is the one who takes pity on him. His hand is gentle on Jason's side as he rolls him off. Their eyes meet and he's surprised at how easily they can silently communicate. Tim needs them. They can't throw him out of what is partially his room. It's been a weird day for all of them. There's a million excuses, all of them putting his partner’s needs above his own. “Don't go,” he pleads as he sits up.

“You can join in,” Jason adds which was definitely not in the silent communication that Kon had with him. “Or you can watch. You still like watching, don't you? I bet your partner here will make the prettiest faces while I make him polish my saddle.”

He kind of wants to ask what that even means, how he knows Tim likes to watch, but he's too choked with arousal and panic. “You have to know this is about you,” Kon says at last. “You have to know that we've been chasing after you.”

If anyone is more bewildered than him in this moment, it's Tim. Kon can see that his carefully crafted universe is absolutely falling down around him. There's probably something to what Stephanie has been saying all along, because his partner doesn't look at all shocked by the admission that they've both been pursuing him romantically. “I thought,” Tim says and swallows hard. “I thought I could just pause this. That I wouldn't have to choose.”

“You don't,” Jason replies. His fingers are out of his ass but his cock is still obscenely hard. Kon has to fight to not stare, and also to not curl over him to get it in his mouth. Usually someone walking in on you is a boner-killer. If anything, it's a boner-enhancer for Jason. Interesting to know, but considering what he knows about the man, it doesn’t surprise him. “Take off those hideous pants and get in bed with us, Timmy.”

Another squeak emits from somewhere in Tim's chest. He sounds kind of like he's having an asthma attack. Or like his heart has finally exploded. “Jason,” he breathes. His gaze shifts to Kon and he’s drowning in it, in all the pent up and hidden feelings Tim’s been suppressing for so long. “Kon.”

Tim stands up. His hand touches the door and Kon thinks that they've really messed this up and that he totally misread that look in the man’s eyes.

But Tim locks it instead. He toes off his shoes. His pants (which really are hideous, how did he miss that?) are off a moment later and he crawls onto the bed, dressed in his little white briefs and a t-shirt. He looks conflicted, so Kon pulls him close first and kisses him.

Softly, slowly. It's years of pent up affection that he’s trying to express. Tim’s mouth is unyielding at first, but becomes more pliant the longer he works at it. Soon, his partner is responding and kissing him in return.

Kon thinks his heart is going to melt.

“Hey,” Jason protests after he watches them for a full half minute. “I'm right here.”

Tim turns and kisses him too. Straddling one of Kon's thighs, he widens his legs just enough that he can get one leg over Jason's. It leaves him awkwardly spread, his cock (mostly hard, Kon notes) in the tiny bit of space left between their legs. Which means that Kon has a front row seat for their kiss in all its rough and tongue-filled glory. There is definitely a different kind of passion between Tim and Jason, a different kind of need.

“I think we should wait,” Tim murmurs when Kon has very nearly convinced himself that things might be back on track. “I think we need to evaluate this. We need to-”

“No,” Jason says flatly. “I think we need this right now. Because if my time chasing down monsters has taught me anything? It's that we can't count on shit not to go up in flames tomorrow. We have to take what we want when we get it.”

It might be beautiful. It might be poetic. Kon can't analyze because he's swept away and reminded yet again of his own need for warmth. To be part of something that makes him feel alive and not that soul-numbing cold he experienced earlier.

Somehow, Jason is the one leading them and that’s perfectly okay with him. “Farm boy was about to slip into something more comfortable,” he informs Tim. “Mainly me. I know why he needs this, so where do you fit in?”

Tim makes himself fit. Kon lays back down and Jason is back on top of him in what feels like a breath, fingers back inside himself as they kiss. It’s more intense now with Tim there and watching every movement. The shorter man rips open a foil package and rolls the condom on him, playing with his cock longer than is really necessary and definitely long enough that Kon knows the innocent thing was all an act as those long, slender fingers wrap around him, stroking firmly. That or Tim is one hell of a bluffer.

His partner is also a voyeur of an extreme degree; Jason was right about that. Tim takes whatever they are doing and simply enjoys it. Kon's glad because he sometimes forgets he is right there next to him. There's nothing in the world except Jason once he sinks down on top of him, taking his cock to the hilt like he was made to do it. His body is so warm that Kon shudders and grasps those stupid thighs he still can’t believe he missed, raking his fingers up and along the muscled skin until he reaches the man’s hips, digging in firmly as he snaps his own hips up and into that heat.

And then Tim is there, his lips capturing all the little moans and grunts Kon doesn’t even realize he’s making until they’re swallowed up by his partner. There’s nothing hesitant about him now.

Jason groans above him. Opening eyes Kon didn’t realize he closed, he spies those same fingers that had worked him wrapped around Jason's erection, stroking and teasing him the way he had Kon. And then those glittering blue eyes meet his own, as Tim makes sure he’s got his attention as he pulls away from Kon’s mouth to tongue the outline of the scar on Jason's chest where the demon had made a mark.

There is nothing innocent about his partner. Nope.

Somehow, Kon finds his voice. “I wanna suck you,” he all but whimpers as Jason rolls his hips down hard. He’s still sitting mostly upright, leaning back slightly against Kon’s own thighs as he offers himself up to Tim.

Tim doesn’t say anything, but he returns to Kon, his lips briefly meeting his before nuzzling into his neck, tongue lapping at his fast beating pulse. He never once let’s go of Jason’s weeping length, stroking him firmly, confidently, as the other man rides Kon like he belongs in a fucking porno.

But Tim is still fully clothed and hasn’t once touched himself, even though the outline of his hard cock strains against the front of his briefs. He’s here with them, but he’s still withdrawn. Cautious. Part of it, but somehow not, and Kon might worry for him but it's also undeniably hot to know Tim Drake is watching the two rivals for his attention fuck and is turned on by it.

Jason, to put it simply, is amazing. There's a surprising amount of grace bundled up in his large frame. He pants and jerks. When Tim lets go of his erection to lay down next to Kon, he takes the opportunity to lean forward and rake blunt nails down Kon's chest. He grins viciously when Kon yelps and captures the sound in a vicious kiss of his own. Every snap downward of his hips is almost violent and absolutely incredible.

Now he knew what he meant when he said he’d ride Kon’s saddle. Because the man is riding him hard and obviously enjoying every second of it.

Next to them, Tim’s eyes blaze as he watches them, his hand _finally_ down the front of his underwear as he jerks himself off. Kon reaches out and grabs his free hand, holding it tightly as he feels the telltale sign he’s almost at his peak.

 _“Jason,”_ he gasps in warning, using his other hand to grab the man’s hip and hold on.

“I got you, Kon,” Jason breathes and slams his hips down one more time, grinding hard and holding himself in place as Kon’s orgasm rips through him, harder than any he’s ever had before.

When he opens his eyes again, still feeling somewhat fluttery from the experience, Jason is sitting back up and jerking his cock hard, his own release spilling over his fingers.

And Tim, Tim is still working hard to meet that same end. Kon lets go of his hand and carefully palms his sac through his underwear. The simple touch does it and sends his partner careening through his own release.

Jason carefully slides off of Kon and collapses on the other side of him. He reaches over Kon’s chest to rest a hand on Tim’s still heavily panting stomach.

“So, who gets to shower first?” he asks. “Or last since apparently the water heater here sucks.”

Tim reaches behind him with his clean hand to grab a pillow and throw it in Jason’s grinning face.

Kon sighs at the ensuing pillow fight. This is somehow his life.

*****

After the three men get cleaned up and somewhat dressed (Kon was granted first shower based on his recent experience with extreme cold; he made it fast), awkward silence ensues, mostly from Tim as his eyes do that weird thing where they can’t seem to settle on anyone or anything.

He’s curled up in the desk chair while Kon and Jason are perched on the bed.

Kon opens his mouth, but the rumbling of his empty stomach makes itself known first. Two sets of blue eyes settle on him.

“When was the last time you ate?” Jason asks.

“Lunch,” Kon admits. “I slept through dinner.”

Tim scrambles up, looking happy at the chance of an escape. “I’ll get something for you. The restaurant closes at eleven.”

“Sit your ass down,” Jason barks. “I’ll go. I need to get my bag anyways. You two, talk.” With that, the man gets up, puts on his shoes, and strides out the door.

Kon sighs and glances at his partner. He looks like a fish out of water, looking everywhere now but at him. “Tim,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

Bewildered blue eyes finally land on him. “For what?”

“For all this.” Kon gestures to the bed. “Jason and I…it just happened. I needed something, something to remind me that I’m here and alive and…” he trails off, trying to gather his thoughts. “I needed to feel _warm_. And Jason, he got it. He knew what I needed before I did.”

“He has a knack for doing that,” Tim admits. He’s quiet for a moment before he continues. The sometimes clueless and oblivious Tim is nowhere to be seen. The laser focus that’s earned him quite the reputation back in D.C. is solely on him. “Look, Kon…I’ve known for a long time that you like me as more than just friends. I played clueless because I didn’t want to ruin what we already have. You’re my _partner_. I trust you more than anyone else in the world. I don’t want that to change.”

Kon rubs the back of his neck ruefully. “You’re not saying anything I haven’t already told myself,” he says quietly. “I didn’t think I was making things this uncomfortable for you.”

“No,” Tim cuts him off quickly. “You _never_ made me feel uncomfortable. You never pushed, you never crossed that line. If anything, I did.”

Thinking back on all the times where Kon and his dick felt so completely and utterly confused, yeah, he can grant Tim that one. “And Jason?”

Tim sighs and leans back in the desk chair, searching the ceiling for answers to what is undoubtedly a loaded question. “I’ve had a crush on him off and on for years,” he finally says. “But we were never really friends, not until after we saved him. I sometimes feel like he’s the sun and I’m a planet trapped in his orbit.”

Poetic, but just nerdy enough to be Tim. Kon gets it though. Jason is charismatic and charming beyond belief when he wants to be. “The laws of gravity.”

His partner continues. “I’ve wanted him for so long, but by the time I had the chance, I was already moving on and had you. I could see both of you vying for my attention and I just didn’t know what to do. So I did nothing.” He looks back at Kon finally. “You can see where that got me.”

Kon smirks, trying not to laugh. “It got you front row seats to me getting the ride of my life.”

Tim’s ears pink at his words. “The entire time, I wished it was me. On either of you. Or in. Maybe a little more audience participation next time?”

Next time. Tim wants a next time. Kon’s heart beats faster at the thought. “There’s nothing saying that can’t happen now. Although I think I may need some working up to it.” Tim, he could possibly handle for his first time on the bottom. Jason’s a fucking a horse that he definitely has to work his way up to.

They both chuckle at that. “You don’t have a lot of experience with men, do you?” Tim asks, his blue eyes intent on him.

Kon shakes his head. “Just some fooling around in college. Hand jobs and a couple bj’s, really. Enough to know I’m interested, but not a lot of practical experience.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” There’s a smirk on his face that sends a shiver down Kon’s spine. A good shiver.

“A threesome is new too,” he admits. “I like Jason, I really do, but I know I don’t like him the way you do.”

Tim nods slowly, absorbing that. His gaze is still intense. “Friends with benefits?”

“Sounds about right,” Kon says with a shrug. “We’ll need to get his take on this too. I know he wants you, Tim, the same way I do. We’ve gotten drunk together enough to get that out in the open.”

“Just how often have you two gotten drunk without me?”

“Too often.” Boy, does Kon have some stories he could tell. But he won't. Not right now, at least.

*****

Jason returns soon enough with dinner and a small rolling suitcase. Kon devours his soup, not complaining in the slightest at what he was brought because beggars can’t be choosers. He’s hungry enough to eat the container and the spoon too.

It’s only when he’s picking little pieces of lobster out of the styrofoam container that he finally tunes in to what the other two are talking about.

“I’ll get a separate room tomorrow,” Jason’s saying. “The front desk is closed for the night already.”

“Why?” Tim asks, slathering a fry in way too much ranch and popping it in his mouth.

Jason raises an eyebrow. Kon has always wished he could do that. It manages to convey so much. “This isn't a Motel 6, Tim. No one is leaving the light on for you.” At Tim's indignant look, he continues. “This room isn’t big enough for the three of us. In case you missed it, I take up a lot of space.”

“No,” Kon disagrees. “Tim’s equipment takes up a lot of space.”

“Hey!” Tim protests while Jason snickers. “We need this stuff for work!”

“Yeah, for ghosts that don’t walk the halls of a school moaning and groaning in the dark. You bitched about that last night, Timmy,” Jason points out. “So did Kon.”

Tim grumbles while Kon laughs.

“Besides,” Jason continues. “It’ll be good to have an extra room on hand for a second shower. In case something else happens and we need it.” He takes a bite of his salad. It was paired with some fried cod, which Kon always has to laugh at, because seriously, the batter was artery clogging enough, a little side salad wouldn’t help.

He can think of plenty of other reasons a second room would come in handy, privacy for some little one on one time with each other being the foremost reason, at least until they figure out how this threeway thing is going to work. Surely it won't always function as it did without a healthy amount of figuring out what goes where. It's difficult enough learning one partner let alone a second one at the same time.

Tim opens his mouth to say something but his attention is stolen by something on one of his monitors. “Holy shit,” he swears, lurching around to stare incredulously at the screen.

Square in the middle of camera number four is a little girl. Even in the dark hallway around her, she emits her own spectral light. She's staring in interest at the camera, reaching out slowly like she's going to touch it.

Kon backs away from the desk quickly. “Fuck, that’s her.” No. No. He's safe here, right? She can't really reach out through the screen...

Jason grabs him by the shoulder, providing a steadying hand that keeps him grounded rather than hyperventilating. Fuck, he's more messed up from the attack than he thought. Kon takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing rather than the ghost girl.

“That’s Harriet Arkham?” Tim asks, his eyes not moving from the monitor. “What is she doing?”

Kon doesn’t want to look, he really doesn’t, but he can't help it and opens his eyes again. It’s like a scene out of a horror flick where you know something bad is going to happen but you don’t know what and your heart is in your throat as the anticipation builds and builds and…

The little girl _smiles_ (it does the same things to her face and throat that it did before) and waves into the camera before she fades out of sight. He tries to remind himself that she could have crawled out of the screen or something and it could be much worse. He doesn't have much luck.

“Okay, if that’s not fuckin’ creepy as shit, then I don’t know what is.” Jason pulls Kon into a loose hug, wrapping him in warmth. It’s only then that he realizes he’s shaking like a leaf.

“Wow,” Tim breathes, already doing something on his laptop. His one track mind is very much back on its preferred track. “You said you saw her earlier too, right, Jason? She asked you to play with her?”

Kon feels Jason shaking his head. He’s willing to put money on the fact he’s rolling his eyes. “Yeah. When I got to the school and went looking for you guys, she appeared out of nowhere, asked me to play with her, then ran off.”

“But she said something different to you, Kon? Kon?” Tim asks a second time when he doesn’t answer right away. Turning, he sees the position the two of them are in.

Once again, Kon feels the smallest stirring of anger over how oblivious his partner can be. “Yeah,” he finally says. Jason rubs a soothing hand over his shoulders. He kind of wishes he hadn’t put a shirt on again after his shower so he could feel the warm touch on his skin rather than through fabric. Seeing Harriet again, even on the monitors, brings back memories of bone chilling cold and slime that steals warmth from whatever it touches.

Tim gets up slowly and takes Kon’s hand. He leads him to the bed and sits down, patting the mattress next to him. Sometimes he remembers those sensitivity training classes Director Lance has forced him to sit through. “I know this is hard, but I need to know what she said. You weren’t very coherent earlier.”

Kon sits, mostly because he doesn’t want to stand anymore. Jason sits next to him, his arm around his shoulders now. They’re both warm, which helps chase away the cold. He closes his eyes and leans into Jason, but he’s got a death grip on Tim’s hand.

“I was heading to the teacher’s lounge to make some coffee when I saw some movement down one of the hallways…” He replays the entire episode in his mind as he tells it to them, word for word, movement for movement, trying to analyze for anything he might have missed at the time, any clue that could give the whole thing up for the hoax he still desperately wants it to be, but knows deep down that it’s not. That just like demons, ghosts are real. Well, this ghost at least. The jury's still out on the others.

He doesn’t miss the concerned glance Tim and Jason share. “What?” he asks.

“It’s just…the timing of it,” Tim explains. “It was late afternoon when we separated. I remember looking at my phone when I got the library. It was just after five...”

“But it was almost fully dark by the time Tim and I found you,” Jason finishes. “I didn’t get there until almost six. I thought I’d check at the school first before coming here to look for you guys.”

Kon blinks slowly. “I was out for over an hour?”

“No,” Tim says. “We heard you shout.”

“I still think that was an echo,” Jason interjects. “You were cursing me out and throwing dodgeballs at me.”

Tim squeezes Kon’s hand and gets up, muttering something about time warps or warping perception, he’s not quite sure. He sits back down in front of his computer and starts typing.

“He’s in the zone,” Kon explains, recognizing the signs. “We could drop a bomb in here and he wouldn’t even notice unless his WiFi connection disappears.” It's actually been tested, too. Their office is in a building that sometimes houses heavy artillery practice. He yawns, suddenly feeling very tired.

And why not? He’s had a long day. A long and traumatizing day. That somehow managed to include fantastic sex, so he guesses it wasn’t all bad. He's debating on the benefits of dreaming about that instead of about ghosts.

“Need to rise with the chickens, farm boy?” Jason teases.

“Screw you. I know you didn’t sleep that well last night either.” Kon shrugs off the arm off his shoulder and crawls fully onto the bed. He finds his phone already plugged in to the charger and checks his alarm to make sure he wakes up long enough to drag Tim to bed in a few hours. His partner is running on even less sleep than he is.

He settles in, clutching a pillow tightly as he already knows it’s going to be one of those nights.

“Scoot over,” Jason orders, already stripped down to those dark red boxer briefs of his. He’s got a book in hand and turns on the small lamp on the night stand.

Kon falls asleep curled up next to Jason and to the sound of Tim typing.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning is overcast when Kon goes to pick up breakfast for the three of them. There’s a chill in the air, as well as a heavy dampness that promises rain. Just the kind of weather he wants to deal with while investigating a haunted school. Thank you, Mother Nature. 

Still, it could be worse. Things aren’t nearly as awkward as he thought it would be when he got up. Jason opened a bleary eye to stare at him before he rolled over into his vacated spot. Tim was curled up at the other side of the bed, most of the covers wrapped around him. 

As he returns from the restaurant, he spots Jason at the far end of the parking lot, smoking what he’s said is one of two cigarettes he allows himself each day. He’s trying to quit, but nothing short of quitting cold turkey has worked for him. Nightmares keep him at two a day. It’s better than the pack a day he was smoking when they first met. He wonders if he'd taken Tim's comment about how he reeked and was covered in a layer of ash to heart. 

Kon waves at him as he enters the room. The other man waves back, acknowledging him. 

Tim is still sound asleep, and sprawled all over the bed to boot. He’d managed to forget that his partner has a tendency to starfish in his sleep. Jason didn’t seem to mind when Kon had dragged Tim to bed after his alarm woke him. There was no way he was going to watch those damn monitors while the other two slept. Somehow, the three of them managed to fit. Cozy didn’t even begin to describe it. 

Jason’s long strides has him almost on Kon’s heels, following him into the room. He grins when he sees Tim. “He was on the other side of the bed when I left.” 

That’s true. Tim is sprawled in the other side of the bed where Kon and Jason had slept, his little blanket nest abandoned, and the bedsheet pulled up almost over his head. 

“Watch this,” Kon says, holding up the large paper cup full of hot coffee. He goes to the other side of the bed and sets it in the nightstand there. 

After about a minute, Tim starts inching his way back across the bed. 

Kon, because he really can be an asshole when he wants to be, picks up the cup and walks around the bed again, setting it on the other nightstand. He makes a point to pick up the book Jason left there and hands it to him. 

The other man suppresses a laugh as Tim once again inches his way across the bed. “Does he have radar for coffee or something?” 

“Or something,” Kon agrees. He tells him about the iced coffee incident from the other day. It feels like forever ago now. 

Jason shakes his head. “He’s a mess, isn’t he?” 

Kon nods. “Welcome to my world. This is what Steph and I have to deal with almost daily.” 

“Hopefully the sex will make up for it.” Jason says it so casually that Kon can’t help but look at him. 

“Have you two had a chance to talk yet?” he asks. 

“Yeah, when you were sleeping last night,” Jason replies. “He can’t seem to get over the fact that he doesn’t have to decide between us anymore.” 

Neither can Kon, if he were being honest with himself. He likes Jason, he really does. But not the same way Jason and Tim like each other. And while Tim has admitted he cares deeply for Kon, he can’t help but wonder if their attraction stems from the closeness they’d developed over the years as friends, and later on, partners. It’s not…not romantic like it is with Jason. This bothers him a bit, but now is not the time to examine those feelings. There’s work to be done. 

Apparently, he’s quiet for too long as Jason gives him a searching look. “You okay?” 

“Just not looking forward to going back to the school today,” Kon says instead. It’s not entirely untrue. 

Jason narrows his eyes, not buying what he’s trying to sell, but Tim chooses that moment to fall out of bed in his sleep-quest for coffee. His face smashes against the carpet while his bare legs flail wildly in the air. The angle looks like it hurts, but he soon falls completely to the floor and glares up at the laughing men. 

Kon takes pity like he usually does and hands him the coffee. “Careful, it’s hot.” 

Once he’s sure his partner isn’t going to burn himself, he goes back to the dresser and hands a takeout container and a plastic fork to Jason. “The breakfast sandwiches here are pretty good. Better than McDonalds.” 

“Ooh, and home fries!” Jason looks pleased by this. “Hash browns are overrated.” 

They eat while Tim nurses his coffee. He hasn’t moved from the floor. 

Kon goes over some old land surveys of the asylum and the school as he eats. While he can’t get out of returning to the school, he’s going to try and spend as much time outdoors as possible. No one has ever reported any ghost or supernatural activity outside, which is just fine with him. He wants to find that cemetery he suspects is on the property somewhere. 

Jason takes it upon himself to wrangle Tim into some clothes after he’s done with his coffee and almost force feeds him. Kon leaves him to it. It’s nice to not have to deal with it for a change. 

The asylum itself sat on a relatively small piece of land, about five acres. The school, sprawling monstrosity that it is, plus the parking lots and playing fields, sits on almost twenty-five acres of land. Assuming the school itself shares some of the original foundation of the asylum (because that would explain _so much_ ), the cemetery has to be… “Right about here,” he mutters, looking at the old map against the new one. 

“What is?” Jason asks, shoving a forkful of potato into Tim’s mouth. 

“The cemetery.” It’s out of his mouth before he realizes that might not have been the best thing to say to the man, considering his own experiences with burial grounds. 

Tim’s eyes narrow, a sure sign he’s more awake than he was letting on and is messing with Jason. He’s such a little shit sometimes. 

But Jason doesn’t seem bothered by it. He leaves Tim on the floor with his food and comes to the desk where Kon has made some space for himself to work. “Where?” 

“Somewhere in here,” Kon says, pointing to a strip of wooded land to the north of where the administration and nurse’s offices are located. “The land doesn’t appear to be disturbed at all, even after the school was built. Plus, there’s no records of a cemetery being relocated at all over the years. If anything, it seems like it was forgotten after the asylum closed in the 70s.” 

“I can’t believe that place stood empty for almost forty years,” Jason mutters, his face troubled. “I wonder if Alfred or Bruce know anything about it. Alfie may, he started with the Waynes not long before Bruce was born.” 

Kon latches onto it. He’s not thrilled with having another civilian trying to tag along with him and Tim. They’d managed to get rid of Stephanie, only to gain Jason. Not that he was complaining (sex will do that, he supposes), but if yesterday taught him anything, it’s that the school is dangerous. And Jason, as much as Kon knows he can mostly take care of himself, is a trouble magnet. 

“Perhaps you can go pick their brains for us today.” He says it casually, without looking up from the map, even tapping his pen slightly against it like he’s lost in thought and not really thinking hard about what he’s saying. 

Jason doesn’t fall for it. “Nice try, asshole,” he replies, ruffling Kon’s hair. He can’t help but notice the man has been a lot more tactile with him since they had sex last night. 

“Can’t blame him for trying,” Tim finally chimes in. “Putting ourselves into dangerous situations and coming out the other side in one piece is kinda what we do.” 

“You’re the one who puts your asses on the line. Kon’s the one who gets you out,” Jason retorts. 

Nice to see he’s already picked up on their dynamic. 

“Jason,” Tim tries again, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s still sitting on the floor without his pants zipped up or his hair combed yet. 

“Tim,” the man sing-songs right back. 

Kon wisely stays out it. He tried his one card and it didn’t work. Perhaps Tim will have more luck. Or offer to suck Jason’s cock. That might work, now that he thinks about it. It would have to be Tim doing it though; the impact wouldn’t be the same if he offers. 

“Look, I’m going with you guys. We’re stickin’ to the buddy system today. You have shit to do there before the exorcist gets here tonight or tomorrow, so get it done and then we can get out.” 

This pretty much sums up what Kon wants to accomplish today, so perhaps it’s not an entirely bad idea. He doesn’t want to spend any more time at the school than absolutely needed. And with Jason there, it’ll be easier to drag Tim out. 

“Fine,” he caves, ignoring the slightly betrayed look from Tim. “We do a couple laps of the school, change out Tim’s battery packs, and look for the cemetery. I want to spend as little time _inside_ that place as possible today.” 

Tim cocks his head to the side, managing to look both inquisitive and enticing at the same time. How he manages this, Kon’s not sure. “Does this mean you believe in ghosts now?” 

He throws his pen at him. 

*****

The school is really creepy, even without the murder ghosts, Kon decides when they arrive. He's feeling proud of himself for uncovering the mystery of the cemetery without any help from Tim, but those feelings disappear as soon as the school comes into view, with gray clouds looming behind it. 

"Forecast calls for rain," Jason tells him unnecessarily. Kon spent the better part of his formative years on a farm; he’s better able to predict the weather than most meteorologists. 

Although he is slightly jealous over Jason’s clothes. He’s attired in a loose henly and a pair of torn jeans. Far less formal than the agents he's accompanying, even if Kon has dressed in a polo and slacks and Tim's suit looks like he slept in it. His partner at least leaves the jacket in the car and rolls up the sleeves of the shirt. 

As they exit the SUV, Tim shrugs out of his shoulder holster and wraps the harness around his service weapon. Kon eyes him curiously.

“Harriet, at the very least, is capable of some form of telekinesis. I’d feel more comfortable if we removed temptation. Just in case.” 

Kon nods wordlessly and does the same, trying to ignore Jason's eyes on him.  

There haven't been any kisses this morning at the motel. No lingering touches. It's not entirely uncomfortable, he thinks, as there had been a good deal of laughter earlier over Tim’s antics with his coffee, but he hasn’t missed the looks Jason keeps shooting at them once they got going. The rearview mirror comes in handy, especially since Tim called shotgun by taking the choice right out of Jason’s hands when he got to the SUV first and took his usual seat by Kon’s side. 

The thing with him and Tim is that they function as partners first, which is nice even with this new development between them. It’s a role they slip into like a well worn glove or a favorite pair of shoes. He knows quite a few agents whose relationships with their partners developed into something more. Some of them are happily married or still together. Others had rather explosive break ups. But those are about the odds of your average couple so he can't judge that working together increases or decreases the odds of the relationship failing. 

He does know that Director Lance divides them up as quickly as possible once she finds out about a romance between partners. Kon also knows that she had quite a problem pairing Tim with anyone for the longest time; they just couldn’t deal with his level of crazy, even if he is so damn erratically brilliant. If they date, does that mean Tim goes partnerless? He doesn't like that idea, not at all. Tim needs someone to take care of him and watch his back on these crazy assignments. 

Then there's Jason. Kon doesn't miss the way the man keeps testing his limits with Tim (and a lesser extent with him) once they left the motel. A touch to his back that Tim subtly scoots away from. A lean between them in the car and watching Tim roll his shoulder so Jason's head can't rest on it. The big man had just grinned at Kon in the rearview mirror and there didn't seem to be any hurt feelings, only a kind of speculation. Tim processes. Kon knows he takes a while to process. Getting him to talk it out at all had been impressive enough last night and now he’s going to wall his emotions up to analyze later. Possibly with Stephanie, who somehow has a pass into Tim's emotion-jail that Kon is jealous of. 

Where and how Jason will fit into their dynamic remains to be seen.

The overhead lights flicker as Tim turns them on when they enter the school. The buzz of the florescent lights is annoying but it's better than nothing. "Same as last time. Check the cameras, replace the batteries,” the agent announces. “I want to move a couple of them to different areas. We stick together."  

Kon thinks of the ghoulish face on the screen and shudders. Jason bumps into him lightly which he thinks is meant to be comforting but doesn’t make a big deal of it. Jason's a good guy, a good friend. He stepped up in a massively huge way to help him last night that Kon doesn’t think he can ever repay.

But when he tries to entertain thoughts of dating him or moving their relationship forward, he comes to a halt. He can't imagine Jason in the future with him. Can't imagine trips to a vacation house or planning some kind of wedding or raising kids with him. Things Kon wants, if he's honest. 

Then again, he's not sure he would be able to trust Tim not to run experiments on their future children. He's pretty sure he overheard him discussing constructing a baby maze at the daycare in their office. 

"Kon?" Tim looks expectantly at him and he grimaces. 

"Wasn't listening."

"I said I think we should go to the pool." 

Kon's not sure he's heard him correctly even then. "There's a pool?" He hasn't seen one and he's pretty sure they've been through the entire building. Multiple times in fact.

Tim looks patient and in good humor. "Yeah. Kind of behind the gym. I remember seeing that the doors are chained when we were here yesterday, but the pool is still actively used by the school. Water's a good channel for the spirit world; they can appear more easily in it and they seem drawn to it for whatever reason. It's why maritime hauntings are so frequent."

"That's a really, really specific field to research," Jason notes as they pause by the second camera for Tim to replace the battery. The first camera has been summarily collected by Tim to move somewhere else. "Like do you major in weird shit and minor in maritime spooky?"

"If anything, I think it would be a graduate degree," Tim answers without missing a beat. He tucks the drained battery into his messenger back and walks away from the camera after checking the screen. Kon and Jason follow like little ducklings. "Anyway, it's worth checking out. The pool area appears in several accident reports."

"Because it's a pool," Kon says. "Slippery tile. Teenagers. Ropes dividing lanes in water." 

Tim shrugs. He pauses a bit, trepidation clear on his face as they enter the gym. No balls instantly fly out at him, but Jason still edges around him to take the lead. "You might be developing a phobia," he teases fondly. "How are we going to get the chain off the pool door?"

His partner veers to a supply closet. Kon makes sure he's between the door and Tim; he doesn't want him getting imprisoned in there. It would be the perfect place to just beat him to death with dodgeballs. Tim holds up a pair of bolt cutters triumphantly and Jason is instantly making grabby hands for them. There's a momentary tug-of-war, which Kon simply watches in amazement because obviously he should be the one to use them. "Do either of you even know how to cut a chain?"

"How hard can it be?" Tim counters. 

Jason snorts. "Of course, I know. I was using these when I was like five. All the best things had a chain wrapped around them. They also make a hell of a sound when you swing them into someone's kneecaps." 

Kon hadn't really considered Jason might know that, but it’s not surprising when he remembers where he comes from. He knows the story. He learned it when they were trying to save the man’s life. Orphaned. Rough childhood on the streets of Gotham. Adopted. Rumors that Bruce Wayne had killed him when the shine wore off his new son. All unsubstantiated, of course. It had quickly become apparent over the course of their investigation that Bruce would move heaven and earth for his kids.

"Jason wins," Kon decides and Tim pouts, stomping out of the supply closet with his arms crossed in front of his chest. It leaves him no protection when a ball flies at him from somewhere in the vicinity of the basketball post. It hits him in the stomach and he curls instinctively, all the air knocked out of him. But he holds on to the ball. 

"You're out!" Tim yells at nothing. Or, rather, tries to yell. He stands up a bit straighter. "Oh God, I think that ruptured my spleen." 

"You don't have one of those," Kon and Jason say at the same time. Jason chuckles. Kon just shakes his head as Jason adds "Maybe your appendix. Or your liver." 

Tim takes a few more hesitant steps. "Ugh," he responds eloquently. "Come on. Stupid ghosts and their stupid forms of amusement."

“Careful, you don’t want to piss her off,” Kon warns, but Tim walks on like he didn’t hear him. 

They make their way to a set of doors that he had previously dismissed. Jason makes short work of the thick chain keeping the doors shut, no doubt for liability reasons. Apparently, the key Tom gave them didn’t work on the sturdy lock.

The smell of chlorine is overwhelming at first and Kon's eyes water. The darkness inside the enclosed room makes it somehow even more oppressive and he gropes for a light switch, relieved that it isn't in some ridiculously hidden location like so many of them are. There's a master switch for all the lights, which Tim's used, but apparently it doesn't extend to this area. 

It's a pretty generic pool. White tile everywhere, long ago faded to cream. There's the school's logo painted on a few of the walls, and the area is littered with posters for the swim team and a few dances. There are also notices about the Christmas holidays already. "I'm going to set up," Tim announces. He has a knack for finding the best viewpoints for the cameras, probably as a result of his side hobby, and he edges toward a corner to claim it for the video equipment. 

Jason checks his cell phone absently, leaning against a wall as he opens his email and starts to type. No rest for the wicked. Or for the highly placed second son of a business mogul. 

Kon wanders toward what has to be the office for the teacher or swim coach. It's fairly bland. No personal photographs or touches. Probably a rotating office without someone permanently stationed there. 

There's a posting on the wall, however. Big, laminated posters showing the pool's construction. Kon thinks to a few things he's read about asylums. About hydrotherapy that could be anything from a relaxing bath to simulating a near drowning. He hasn't read anything about a pool in Arkham, although this form of therapy may have been developed after its heyday. Maybe it's just what Tim said that is giving him the creeps. He's certainly rethinking any lake vacation in his future (which sucks because he loves fishing). Not that he believes in ghosts. Of course not. He believes in one ghost. That's different.

He pokes around, examining the rest of the office before moving on. There's nothing particularly interesting. It's still eerie. He's done a sweep of the boys' locker room (nothing there but a flashback to his high school sports career) when he feels it. A cold chill brushing past him. His heart starts racing nearly instantly and he whips around to find nothing there. At least until the shower on the far wall kicks on. The one next to it follows, all of them spraying water with a frightening amount of pressure. Enough that the showerheads rattle and he’s half afraid they're going to be torn from the wall. 

Kon makes a run for it, going into the little hallway connecting the locker rooms and nearly hits Jason, who is trying to get in. He backs up to let him and the larger man squeezes into the hallway. "The showers all just kicked on," he starts to explain when the door behind Jason slams shut, hard enough to rattle the glass paneling in the center of it. No doubt it's designed to keep students from sneaking off to the locker rooms without reason, but Kon knows even before his hand reaches the doorknob that it's locked. 

"What the fuck?” Jason curses as he also tries the door without success. 

The noise attracts Tim. He’s halfway towards them when it happens. One moment, he’s jogging as quickly as he dares, well away from the edge of the pool, and then he's simply not. Kon hears the sharp yip before the splash, like his partner has simply been jerked into the swimming pool. 

He slipped. He had to have slipped. 

Tim is clumsy. Tim hasn't had his usual gallon of coffee. Tim...Tim isn't surfacing.  

"Fuck!" Jason yells, desperately jerking at the doorknob. "Tim!"  

They have a clear view of most of the pool and can see where the man has fallen in. There are shapes moving in the water. Dark hair and Tim's red shirt. Then there, around him, Kon spots a ball of white with golden ringlets floating around her. Harriet.  

Tim is still conscious at least. The two men watch helplessly as he pushes off the bottom of the pool and kicks upward, only to be pushed back down by some unseen force. He's being kept there, suspended, Harriet's own personal goldfish. She's not touching him that Kon can see, not physically attacking him. Simply watching him, floating around him, drowning him.  

"Back up!" Kon grips his friend's shoulder. Jason is scratching at the glass like that might break it, his face pressed against it. He waits only a second for him to obey before he kicks the door. It's weak where the lock is. He wishes he had his gun so he could shoot it. One kick splinters the wood. The second cracks it. He's rearing back for a third when Jason simply puts his broad shoulder down and plows into it.  

The door opens a second before he makes contact, sending him skidding over the tile and landing hard on his side with a sharp gasp. Kon doesn’t spare a moment to worry about him as he rushes past him and dives into the pool.  

Tim is a good swimmer and a smart agent, despite all the jokes Kon makes about his self-preservation skills. Upon realizing that he isn't able to get to the surface, he's gone relatively limp, conserving his oxygen. His blue eyes are wide as they stare at Harriet. She looks almost like an angel, Kon decides, floating around his partner with her golden hair and white dress. But he remembers her grin. Remembers the slit in her throat that her floating hair is concealing.  

He feels like he's moving through something far thicker than water. It feels like a lifetime as he swims to Tim. 

Harriet is laughing. The sound somehow carries through the pool, bright and merry like a child’s laugh should be, and yet, it’s so wrong that it makes his skin crawl, even in the cool water. Tim reaches for him, and Kon grabs his hand to reel him in. 

The laugh turns into a shriek. A child's scream at having a toy taken away from her. Her little face contorts in agony and there’s that gaping wound in her neck again, red and raw. She tosses her head back as she screams, the sound still all around them but somehow feeling like it’s emanating from that tiny throat. 

Kon holds Tim close against his chest. He can feel his heart, frantic and desperate with the lack of oxygen. He swims desperately away from her, but it feels like he's being dragged back and downward, caught in an undertow even though he knows it isn’t physically possible. 

They’re going to die here. He's going to drown with Tim, unable to reach the surface. Kon looks behind him, half terrified that Harriet has grabbed his leg, that she'll claim him again. She's still floating around them, her head at least four feet away from his body, that manic grin spreading pink, rose petal lips, the deep gash in her throat red and raw in the water. The fact that she’s not bleeding into the water makes it that much worse. Wounds like that are _supposed_ to bleed. 

Kon suddenly shoots to the surface of the water with almost violent force, coughing and sputtering as his head breaks free. Jason is right beside them, reaching out to drag Tim to the ledge of the pool and haul him out. He’s exhausted. He wants to just drape himself along the edge for a moment but he also wants out of the water. Right now. Jason seems to realize this and, after Tim is lying on his side and gasping for breath, helps him out. "What the fuck?" Kon pants. "What even was this?" 

"Guess she wanted Timmy to play Marco Polo with her," Jason offers. He drags Tim to his knees and bends him at the waist, patting his back. He gags for a moment and more pool water comes pouring out of his mouth and nose. "You alright?" It’s hard to tell who the question is directed at. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Kon answers, still sucking in deep, wonderful breaths of air. Tim just gives a thumbs up as he continues to cough to clear his lungs. That's not the reaction he would have, but they've long since established that Tim is kind of really weird. "She wasn't cold that time."  

Tim has finally gotten control of himself. "She did something to me that wasn't hitting me with a ball!" he announces triumphantly. "That's great. And terrifying. A lot of terrifying." There’s a cut on the side of his face. Kon notices it when he lifts his head; it's sending blood streaming down his face along with the water.  

Jason dabs at it with his fingers. "You hit your head?" There's a gruff kind of concern.  

"No. Just scraped it on the bottom of the pool," Tim replies. "Do you think I could get a towel?" Jason grabs a few from a nearby storage bin. He's watching them carefully, like they’re gearing up for a delayed reaction to the most recent trauma. Given what happened to Kon not even twenty-four hours ago, it's a pretty reasonable assumption to make, but he finds he's not cold, at least no more than he should be, and Tim seems the same. Except that his head doesn't stop bleeding. Wounds near the scalp in general are like that, but it's certainly making a mess. It's already ruined a towel. 

"There's a first aid kit in the nurse's office," Tim offers. "Tom told me about it in case anything like this happened. Clearly, it's happened.”  

They make their way out, but not before Tim checks his camera and retrieves his messenger bag while Jason pokes his head into the locker room to see about those showers and turning off the water. He’s already muttering something about replacing the door. 

Both the camera and the phone are unscathed by the incident. Tim pulls out his phone to check it, which reminds Kon that his is in his pocket still. After a moment of fumbling around, he takes it out and grins. It had been a bit expensive at the time, but now he’s glad he splurged for the waterproof model. 

He waves it at Tim. “And to think, you made fun of me for buying this.” 

“I’ll get the next model that comes out,” Tim replies with a small smile of his own. 

No lights go out as they plod along the hallways. No more manifestations appear. Kon stares outside as rain starts to pound against the windows. The cloud cover makes it feel later than it is; it's not even mid-morning and he's already exhausted. So much for searching for the cemetery today, but then again, he’s already soaked through and his shoes are a sloshing mess, so he supposes it doesn’t really matter. 

Jason is examining Tim's head as they walk, at last deciding that a few sterile strips should do the trick of keeping it closed and they can layer gauze on top. When he looks at Kon for confirmation, he can only nod his agreement. He and Tim have patched one another up more times than he can count and usually from weirder things than this. How do you treat a bite from an unknown animal? A burn from a demon? Hypothermia by ghost? That last one turned out to be rather different than he expected, but damn, it did the trick. 

Kon doesn't really think about what hallway they’re in until he sees the camera mounted on the wall at the far end. Jason has his phone out again; he's in the middle of some important email as far as he can tell, not that he’d know the significance. Tim is dabbing at his head with a towel, the other wrapped around him like a dress. Vigilant, though.  

They make it to the nurse's office without issue. Jason cleans and bandages Tim's head while Kon dries himself off with a hair dryer he finds in a cabinet. He's not sure if it's a vanity thing or if it has a medical purpose, but he's certainly relieved he can knock some the wet out of his clothes. He goes to work on Tim afterward, and the fabric of his suit dries so easily that Kon is jealous; his polo is still damp.  

"So now that the ghost tried to drown you," Jason drawls. "Are you satisfied? You finally got her attention."  

Tim pouts, especially when his fingers are smacked away from touching the wound on his head. "At least she noticed me. But I don't think it makes me any more likely to attract ghosts in the future." He seems upset. Kon reaches up to ruffle his hair, changing that pout into a scowl.  

Jason just snorts. "I need to make a couple of calls and you two have made this place like a sauna. I'm going to step out while you both bake." 

It is kind of warm. "Don't go far," Kon warns idly and Jason shoots him that crooked smile that makes him want to call him something more than a friend. He slips out of the room and Kon looks at Tim.  

"What?" Tim asks, aiming the hairdryer at the back of his thighs. They aren't going to be dry as a bone, but at least they aren't squishing when they walk any longer. 

There's a long suffering sigh and Kon is surprised that it's coming from him. He usually doesn’t vocalize his frustrations with his partner all that often. "You scared me," he admits after a moment. "That scared me. When you were drowning and I couldn't get to you?" He purses his lips, shaking his head at his partner. "You'd think I would be used to it by now but I'm not. You make my heart stop so often."  

A smile is his answer. Brilliant and genuine and it's not a look that Tim Drake wears often. He leans over to give Kon a chaste peck just beside his mouth. "You're my hero, Kon," he murmurs. "Always have been. Even if you're just bringing me coffee. You always know how to keep me going." 

It's as much of an admission of affection as he's going to get from Tim. As anyone could ever get from him. It fills him with elation and warmth. He feels, for once, like this might actually work out. 

Which, of course, is when Jason brings the world crashing back in on them because that's what he does. "Hey guys?" he calls out. "There's some man in a wedding dress out here and he doesn't look happy."  

Amadeus. Shit. 

Tim practically bulldozes over Kon in his rush to get into the hall and Kon narrowly avoids crashing into his back as Tim comes to an abrupt halt. Sure enough, there's a man in a wedding dress. His hair sticks out at all angles, making his widow's peak more pronounced. The strands are wild and birdlike, matching his sharp, hooked nose. The dress is torn open in the back, clearly meant to fit a much smaller frame. He appears to have clothes on under it, thankfully, but it also lends a kind of desperation to the image. Like he'd simply snapped one day and pulled on the clothes, which, if the story Tim told him and Steph on the way here is true, he did.

There's also an axe by his side that was not mentioned in said story at all.

He's standing between them and Jason. His head swivels to an almost unnatural angle to look at them, but immediately goes back to his prey. "Amadeus!" Tim yells, waving his arms. He gets no response. He bangs against a locker, but still there's nothing. The image (it's not a ghost, Kon. Not a ghost. He only believes in one ghost, not two) doesn't move.  

Jason still has his phone out. Kon can't tell if there's a purpose to it or if he simply hasn't put it away. "I'm assuming this isn't an over-enthusiastic drama teacher?" he questions. It sounds too casual, like he deals with this stuff every day rather than stuffed up suits in a boardroom. Kon is having trouble marrying the idea of what’s happening here with the truth of the universe. The dead don't come back.  

Except the Arkhams. Except Jason Todd Wayne. 

At least Jason has a heartbeat. And radiates body heat. And is really good in bed… 

There’s a mumbled garble from Jason’s phone, to which the man replies. "Look, Bruce. I'm being stalked by a guy in a wedding dress and I'm not even at a gay pride parade!" His tone is almost cheerful. 

Amadeus takes a lumbering step toward him. One hand holds the skirt of the dress up, the other firmly grips the handle of his weapon. It looks like a modern fireman’s axe, begging the question of where and how the ghostly man got his hands on it. It’s an all too real object held by an all too real looking hand. 

"Are you snapchatting your dad?!?" Tim demands, frantically rummaging through his messenger bag.  

"Maybe run," Kon adds in. He really wishes he had his gun right now. Not that it would do any good, but it would make him feel better. "Or like. Back away slowly." But he's panicked for Jason. Ghost or not, that axe is real. Aren’t ghosts supposed to be all wispy and ethereal? How is Amadeus even holding that thing? Is he capable of swinging it? 

But he remembers a grinning little girl and what she did just by hugging him. Or the so very real balls she kept throwing at Tim. He forces himself to focus. He’s a fucking FBI agent. He’s trained for this. Sort of. Pretty sure there was no mention of homicidal ghosts in any of his training manuals or exams. 

Jason does take a step, but it's toward them. Toward Amadeus. "It's fine," he insists. "You just have to-" The axe swings. It misses him by a good deal, but the sound it makes scraping against a cinder block wall is very, very real. "Whoa, shit."  

Kon starts forward. He's not sure what he's going to do but he's going to do something to protect Jason. Tim grabs his shoulder. "Don't walk through him." But his hand is still in the bag and he makes a frustrated noise a moment after. “Bag of holding, my ass,” he mutters. 

The ghost drops the hem of his dress as he swings again, this time in a two-handed grip. There’s a distant shout, just on the edge of hearing as the blade catches on Jason's shirt, ripping it at the shoulder. Kon rushes forward, skirting around the ghost because he's heeding Tim's warning, but also because he remembers what happened the last time he touched one. Tackling a demon was so much different. 

His mind races. Amadeus is going to chop Jason to bits. He's going to frame Kon and Tim for the murder and they're going to sound insane when they try to explain it was a man wearing a wedding dress who died almost a hundred years ago.  

Jason's shirt tears down the front, showing pale skin and the scar from the demon's mark on him. The one that Kon wants to kiss better, like Tim had tried to do. Wait, what? 

_Focus._

He expects Amadeus to go in for the kill as Jason's back hits the wall with the ghost directly in front of him. 

But he stops. Everything stops. Amadeus seems to stare at Jason's chest, at the branding there, and then he disappears, the axe falling to the ground with a solid _thunk_. Jason collapses to his knees and Kon is there in an instant, hands running over him, trying to see if he's injured. There's no blood. The axe missed. "Fuck," Jason breathes. "Oh, fuck, I think I peed a little."  

“What the hell were you thinking?” Kon yells, still touching Jason, still feeling the warmth emanating from the man. Okay, so maybe he likes him a little more than he originally thought. That’s good, right? 

A moment later, Tim's crouched next to them with a carton of salt. "I wanted to see if this would work. It's all I could think of." He's shaking, biting his lip so hard that Kon can see the imprints of his teeth in it. "Didn't know if it would work." He huffs out a breath. His arm goes around Jason and for a moment the three of them just huddle there.  

"It was the mark," Jason murmurs into Tim’s hair. "That's what stopped him." 

“I threw salt at him,” Tim tries, but Jason shushes him. 

“I felt it, Tim. The mark, when he got close, it flared up, like it was burning into my skin again.” He closes his eyes and rests his head against the block wall. 

Kon eyes the scar on Jason’s chest. Only part of it is visible through the torn henley, but he remembers it all to clearly from last night. But he also remembers when it was red and fresh, the skin puckered and still smoking from the brand. The smell of cauterized flesh. 

There are some things he’ll never forget. Which sucks because there are many memories he’d much rather do without. Jason lucked out on some of that. He has amnesia for most of what happened to him. 

“Well, at least now we have one thing that’ll keep the ghosts away,” Kon tries to joke. 

Jason chuckles weakly. “You guys just want to stare at my awesome body.” 

“It is pretty awesome,” Tim says absently, tracing the scar he’d licked so adoringly last night with the tip of his finger. “I’d really like to know if the salt did anything. I read an article that said…” 

As he prattles on, Kon and Jason share an amused look over his head. When it comes to his work, Tim really does have a one-track mind.


	6. Chapter 6

Sometimes, Kon really wants to strangle his partner. For some reason that only makes sense to him, Tim announces he wants to go to the library. It’s the one other place in the school where regular ghost sightings are reported, but they’ve yet to see this particular ghost.

“I was checking it out yesterday, but then Jason arrived and…yeah,” Tim stops talking as his brain finally catches up with his mouth and realizes talking about Harriet’s attack on Kon may not be the best thing to bring up so soon after her attack on him. He still seems completely unfazed by the incident, but Kon knows all too well how good he is at compartmentalization and repressing his feelings. He'll have a meltdown later, but at least he'll be somewhere safe when he does it.

It must be a Gotham trait as he’s seen Jason and, to a lesser extent, Stephanie do it too. The blonde hurricane is much more apt to get someone else to talk about their feelings than to share her own, at least that Kon’s seen. Gothamites seem to endure shit and move on with their lives.

“So why do you want to see if this other ghost is here?” Jason asks. He’s still looking a bit wild around the eyes after his close encounter, although whether that’s from the axe or the scar reacting to Amadeus, Kon isn’t certain. He hasn’t removed his shirt though.

“He wants to throw salt at her,” Kon replies blithely.

Tim tosses a glare at him from over his shoulder. “I’m only going to do that if she attacks us. Amadeus and Harriet have, so it’s a reasonable assumption.”

“Even though there have been no reports about the library ghost being anything other than helpful,” he retorts.

“How do you know that?”

Kon shrugs. “I know how to read too.” He’d forgotten to pack a book, so he’d spent most of his monitor shift the first night reading over Tim’s case files. “Every report about the library ghost said it’s a helpful ghost, whoever it is.”

“How so?” Jason asks curiously.

“Random books appearing on tables where someone’s working on a report or a paper. Sometimes they’re even open to the exact page they need. In the stacks, books will fall off shelves and turn out to be the exact one the person is looking for.” He kind of wishes this ghost had been in his school library. He’d hated research papers, especially when the source material wasn’t available online.

“Sounds like my kind of ghost.” Jason nods approvingly.

“Lit nerd.”

“Dumb jock.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Straight A’s until I died, corn boy. Suck on that.”

Tim has stopped dead and is just staring at them in sheer and utter confusion. “How are you guys doing this?” he asks, eyes wide and starting to do that twitchy thing again.

Jason sighs and slings an arm over Tim’s shoulders, turning him back around to continue walking. “Because the alternative is to run screaming, Timmy. Leave it be.”

His partner looks like he wants to say something, but they arrive in front of the double doors leading into the library. The three men look at them in trepidation before Kon reaches out and pushes one open.

The library is mostly dark save for the same emergency lights that light the school during off hours. He finds the light switches easily enough and Tim and Jason enter behind him.

As soon as the doors swing shut, there’s a distinctive click as the lock engages. Tim’s eyes widen in excitement and looks around eagerly.

“Fuck that,” Jason growls as he turns back, ready to kick the door open, but Kon grabs his arm.

“Leave it. Those doors are easy enough to break if we need to make a run for it.” 

He’s really not looking forward to another ghost encounter today. Two is enough. Hell, one was enough. Zero would be better. Between his partner almost drowning and an axe-swinging ghost trying to kill his friend, odds are good this third ghost will target him in some way. Tim's said something about rules of three hasn't he? He's the third. Kon does not want this attack to happen, but he’s oddly comforted knowing Jason ripping his shirt off will drive it away.

Yet again, he wonders how this is his life.

The room is quiet and has that distinct scent all libraries do, even with modern conveniences like air conditioning and computers. The smell comes from a type of dust mite that loves paper in particular, but it's all the same half familiar and half comforting to Kon.  It certainly calls back memories of the archives he and Tim tend to frequent together. There are books everywhere, carefully arranged by their subject and Dewey decimal numbers. Kon remembers Jason waxing poetic over the library at the university he’d gone to one night while they were drinking their sorrows away. They didn’t always bitch about Tim. The man is a massive bibliophile, so perhaps this ghost will take pity on them.

There’s an air of anticipation as they wait for something to happen. When it does, it’s not what anyone expects.

On the whiteboard behind the checkout desk, there’s a slight sound as one of the markers is uncapped and rises in the air.

Tim gasps and lurches forward, brushing off both Kon and Jason’s hands with some twist Kon’s seen him do on the sparring mats back in D.C. He’s sneaky like that.

The men share a concerned look and follow, definitely not as excited as the shorter man who’s almost bouncing with excitement. “This is so awesome,” Tim breathes as he stops in front of the desk.

This appears to be some kind of signal as the marker starts moving across the board, leaving behind one of the most graceful handwriting samples Kon’s ever seen.

_The library is my sanctuary. You are safe here._

Tim has his camera out and is already recording everything. “Who are you?” he asks.

_Constance Arkham_

The script of the signature is even more elegant. Jason lets out a low whistle. “How come you’re not trying to kill us like your husband and daughter are?”

“Jason,” Tim hisses in warning, but the marker is already moving.

_My Amadeus is the only one trying to kill you. Harriet simply does not want you here._

Kon takes his shot with asking the ghost a question. There’s still nothing to see aside from the floating marker.  This would be the easiest supernatural stunt to fake, if they hadn't already witnessed everything else here. “But Harriet is the one we’ve seen most often. She can take physical form while your husband seems more limited. Why is that?”

“Oh, good question,” Jason says approvingly.

There’s a pause before the marker moves across the board.

_Harriet is stronger than my husband because of the gruesome nature of her death. Such an innocent soul tarnished and violated in such a manner, it twisted her. She was a special child, wild of imagination and always seeing things that weren’t there. We thought it was simply because of the books she loved reading. She so very much enjoyed Alice Through the Looking Glass and other works by Lewis Carroll._

There’s a pause while Constance apparently takes a moment to rest or choose her next words.

_The ritual my Amadeus used didn’t banish the bat spirit he and his poor mother saw, but bound us to this place instead. When he died, his soul was bound here along with us. As part of our flesh and blood, our daughter is able to take from us to have her wicked way with whomever catches her interest._

“That’s why she keeps asking Kon and Jason to play with her,” Tim says, obviously thinking out loud for a change. “She finds them interesting.” He sounds slightly put out, which makes Kon want to remind him of his almost drowning not even thirty minutes ago. “Why can we see her and Amadeus, but not you?”

_I am keeping them out._

Kon and Jason instantly turn to look at the double doors behind them. The significance of the lock turning earlier is suddenly made clear. “Isn’t that going to make them mad?” he asks, glancing back at the whiteboard.

 _I do not care, not anymore. Please, hurry and find a way to put us to rest. I am so weary of this existence_.

The cap is placed back on the marker and it’s set back in its proper spot almost gently.

Tim lowers his camera. “Well, that was interesting.” He strides over to the whiteboard to poke around. Kon catches him placing the marker in an evidence bag.

Jason is still staring at the door with some trepidation.

“You alright?” Kon asks, taking a chance and placing a hand on the man’s broad shoulder. Jason leans into it ever so slightly.

“Yeah. Just wondering what’s gonna happen when that door unlocks.”

“Between your demon mark and Tim’s salt, we’re probably covered.”

“It’s the probably part that concerns me.” But he chuckles as he says it and wraps an arm around Kon’s waist, tugging him in close and resting his chin on his shoulder. “How long will it take to get the nerd wonder ready to leave?”

Kon lets himself relax in the easy embrace, enjoying the warmth he thinks he’s always going to associate with Jason now. He can think about the future later when he and Tim aren’t in the middle of a case where both have them have almost been killed. He sighs as he realizes that, at some point, he’ll have to find the words to explain this to Director Lance.

“Give him a few more minutes. If he tries to take the whiteboard down, then we’ll need to step in.”

“Fair enough.” Jason’s breath tickles his neck, but he makes no move to step away.

Kon can’t blame him. It’s been a rough morning.

They watch Tim putter around in companionable silence. He doesn’t take the whiteboard down, but he takes numerous pictures of the beautiful script.

“That lady sure knows how to write,” Jason eventually comments when Tim starts measuring the spaces between the letters and making notes. He hasn’t moved from Kon’s side. “You don’t see handwriting like that anymore.”

“My Aunt Martha writes like that. Said she won a few awards for penmanship when she was younger.” Kon feels a small surge of pride at the memory. He still thinks her cursive is amazing. “Okay, this has gone on long enough.”

He steps out of Jason’s loose embrace, missing the warmth immediately as his still damp shirt so nicely reminds him of his earlier swim. “Tim,” he calls out. “You done yet?”

“Huh?” Tim glances over at him, wide eyed like he’d completely forgotten Kon and Jason were even there. Typical.

“I think you’ve processed the scene to death. Let’s go.”

Jason snickers. “Nice choice of words.”

Tim stares longingly at the whiteboard.

“No,” Kon says sternly. “It won’t fit in the SUV and it’s raining.” Seriously, this is what he does half the time. He’s not an FBI agent, but Tim’s babysitter.

“Fine.” Tim puts his things away in the bottomless pit that is his messenger bag.

To their surprise, nothing happens when they exit the library. Kon expects some kind of retaliation from the other ghosts for hiding in there, but apparently, it really is some kind of safe haven from their shenanigans. He’s glad for it as he’s not entirely sure how much more shock his system can take. Hypothermia and a near drowning in less than twenty-four hours are more than he wants to handle. Not to mention being convinced he's going to watch his partner die or Jason get cut to bits.

“Hey, before we leave, I want to check that spot where we found you yesterday, Kon,” Tim announces and promptly veers down the correct hallway. He must have a map in his head of the school already because Kon is still getting turned around in this place. Aren't newer schools supposed to have more basic layouts?

“What are we, his fuckin’ entourage?” Jason grumbles as they follow after him. Safety in numbers and all that.

Kon doesn’t answer as he recognizes where they already are. This is the same hallway where he’d first seen Harriet. He stops short when he comes up on about the place where he noticed her. The overhead light she’d caused to short is still out and casts a very dark patch that Tim strides through without pause.

“You alright, man?” Jason asks, torn between staying with Kon and following after Tim. He hovers somewhere in between, but still under one of the lights, like he knows standing in the dark is bad. But then again, he’s more aware of the things that go bump in the night than most people are.

He points to a spot a few feet in front of him. “This is where I saw her.”

From ahead of them, they hear Tim start swearing. “Goddammit!” he shouts. “There’s nothing here!”

“What’s not there, Timmers?” Jason asks when it becomes obvious Kon isn’t.

“The spectral goo! The slime, the…the…whatever it is that Kon was covered in yesterday. The floor was covered in the stuff and now there’s not a single bit of it left.” Tim is genuinely upset, pacing around and glaring at the floor like it personally offended him.

“Does that mean we’re done here?” Kon speaks up. The hair on the back of his neck is standing on end again, but the tell-tale chill isn’t there. He’d still swear on a stack of Bibles that they’re being watched.

Tim makes a disgusted noise and stalks back towards them. Kon keeps his mouth shut about the light because his partner would insist on climbing up one of them to reach the ceiling and examine it. Yes, he’s well aware he’s neglecting a part of their investigation, but dammit, he does not want to be here.

“Fine, now we can leave,” Tim says as he brushes past Kon and heads back towards the main entrance. He’s stiff with anger and his strides lengthen.

It just means Kon can walk normally instead of keeping pace with his shorter partner.

Jason walks with him, but Kon doesn’t miss the concerned glances he’s sending towards both of them. “Is he always like this?” he finally asks.

“Like what?”

“This intense. Focused. Single minded. Pig headed. Take your pick.”

Kon shakes his head ruefully. “This is him every time we’re in the field. The mess you see back home is his resting state.”

“He didn’t even pick up on what that place meant to you,” Jason continues. He sounds pissed. “If he tried dragging me back to where I got this,” his hand brushes his chest and the slash in his shirt, “I’d probably take out his knee.”

Kon doesn't mention that Tim has been back to that place. He's not even sure why he goes, except that he's felt like something changed when they saved Jason. “What you’ll find really annoying about Tim is that he’s well aware of what he’s doing, but understanding how his actions impact others isn’t something that happens until later.” Usually after a debrief with Stephanie. She points out all the human things he misses.

Jason is quiet for a moment as he processes this little bit of insight into the man he’s been pursuing for so long. “So what do you do until then?”

“Keep his dumb ass alive and invent all kinds of petty revenge against him. When we got back from Alaska a couple years ago, I gave him decaf for a month.” He tells Jason a brief story about how he somehow got roped into a hunt for Bigfoot with Tim and Steph. He consoled himself with salmon fishing while the two Bigfoot enthusiasts argued over the bait she brought. They didn’t catch sight of Bigfoot, but they did eat fantastically during the trip. The revenge was for the rain. Kon did not appreciate the leaky tent he slept in for the better part of a week, nor the cold that followed.

The story amuses Jason immensely and he laughs. It’s a bright and rich sound in these empty halls and Kon can’t help but grin at the smile he brought to the man’s face.

“What’s so funny?” Tim asks crossly, sparing a glance for the two men. They’ve reached the main doors. Kon unlocks the access panel and turns off the main lights. Given a choice between the dark halls behind him and the gloom outside, he’ll take the great outdoors any day.

“You,” Jason replies, daring to reach out and ruffle Tim’s hair. It’s a mess after the dip in the pool.

“What’d I do?”

Kon ignores the conversation going on behind him and opens doors, welcoming the cool moist air. Despite the heavy clouds overhead, the rain has tapered off to a light drizzle, almost a fine mist. From here, he can see the stretch of woods across from the administration office. The school really is a maze of corridors and classrooms as he’s pretty sure those are the same woods he saw yesterday afternoon and admired the maples.

Staring into the distance, he knows he’s right about where the cemetery is. What he’s uncertain about is why he’s so fixated on it. Does he want to find the Arkhams’ final resting places to soothe that rational part of his brain that is still screaming ghosts don’t exist? Or is it something else?

Whatever it is, they’re not looking for it today. Not in this weather and not with the ruined loafers he’s wearing. Slipping and breaking his ankle on wet leaves or hidden roots would be icing on the cake for this trip.

He heads towards his SUV, leaving Tim to lock up behind them. As he sits down in the driver’s seat, Kon leans back in the seat and closes his eyes against the sudden wave of weariness that hits him. He’s also cold again, so he starts the engine and turns on the heat. Yesterday, Tim had apparently forgotten his leather seats have heaters, but Kon cranks his on.

The doors open and Tim takes his usual seat next to Kon while Jason maneuvers his large frame into the back. His partner appears slightly less sullen, so whatever the other man said appears to have done the trick.

“Where to?” Kon asks as they leave the high school behind them.

“Somewhere that doesn’t have seafood,” Tim replies. “That little restaurant is convenient, but they need to serve breakfast all day.”

He has no arguments with this.

*****

The burger and fries are possibly the best thing he’s eaten in weeks, but then again, Kon has a penchant for beef. When they get back to the motel, all he wants is a shower (and he wishes he could linger rather than the making a mad dash to get clean before it goes cold) and a nap. The rain is coming down harder again. It makes him long to be back in Kansas, curled up under one of Aunt Martha’s knitted afghans with something warm to drink and a book to read.

Jason follows Kon and Tim back to their room long enough to pick up his suitcase. “I’m gonna crash once I get my room figured out,” he announces and heads back out the door. He grins at the two FBI agents. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

With that, he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Kon knows better than to even say anything as he’s already certain there isn’t a whole hell of a lot Jason Wayne won’t do, in bed or otherwise. He glances over at Tim, who’s frowning at the closed door.

“You want to shower first?” he asks in a quiet voice.

Tim’s attention turns back to him. “What? You don’t want to shower together?” It sounds wrong, the way he says it. Something is bothering him.

“The shower isn’t that big,” Kon replies, sitting in the desk chair to take off his still wet shoes. His feet are cold in the damp socks. “Besides, shower sex isn’t as fun as porn makes it out to be.”

That gets him a slight twist of Tim’s lips, one of his little half smiles that only appear when he’s in a mood but finds something more ironic than funny. It’s a start.

“What’s bothering you, Tim?” Kon asks, and settles more firmly in the chair. The monitors on the desk are dark while in sleep mode, which helps settle his somewhat frayed nerves.

“Everything,” his partner finally admits. “I just…I know I don’t process emotions the same way you or Jason, or even Steph, do. I need time. That little display of yours in the library earlier pissed me off. It was like you two were rubbing my face in how things should be.”

Kon narrows his eyes. Is Tim jealous? That’s…new. He hasn't even been certain his partner has the capability before this moment. “That was all Jason. In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s surprisingly tactile. He’s been trying the same thing with you all morning, but you brush him off.”

“Has he?” Tim asks in a knowing tone. “I’ve seen him all over you.”

“God, I can’t believe you’re so fucking blind sometimes,” Kon snaps. “He was all over you on the way to the nurse’s office. He dragged your half-drowned ass out of the pool and helped you relearn how to breathe. He made sure you were wearing _matching socks_ this morning before we even left. Even I don’t do that.”

He gets up. This is not a conversation he wants to have with his partner until he’s had a chance to think things through. It will not end well. “Tim, you said it yourself. You need time to process. No one is taking that away from you.”

All the fight drains from Tim like someone’s pulled the plug. He sags, his shoulders and head dropping, long black bangs falling over his eyes.

Kon closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Tim, holding him close. It’s something he’s done many times before, so he knows the shorter man will accept it for what it is. Sometimes, you just need a hug. Kon, oddly, thinks Tim may have received more hugs after joining the FBI than he did before it.

Tim’s hands fist in the fabric of his polo shirt as he holds on tightly, burying his face in Kon’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“For what?” Kon asks, resting his chin on top of his partner’s head.

“For earlier. In the hallway at the school. I didn’t think about what going back there would do to you.”

There’s a reason why Kon usually deals with the victims. Tim, while he can be very empathetic to people he knows and is comfortable with, comes across as very abrupt in his eagerness to get the details. He excels at interrogations. He’s sharp and very much on point throughout the entire process. No one ever expects it from him either, which they have very much played to their advantage over the years.

Kon relaxes finally, the tension in his shoulders releasing at Tim’s words. “Jason point that out to you?”

Tim chuckles, a real one this time and tips his head back to look at him. The bandage on the side of his face is spotted red and needs to be changed. “Yeah. Smacked me upside the other side of my head and called me an idiot.”

“You are an idiot sometimes, but I love you anyways.” It should feel awkward to say this so easily, but it doesn’t. What he and Tim already have between them, if that’s not based on love and trust, then he doesn’t know what else it could be.

The smile that lights Tim’s face has him believing he said the right thing. “Thanks, Kon,” he says. He gently places his hands on either side of Kon’s mouth and pulls him down, capturing his lips in a kiss that reveals a level of skill Kon didn’t expect from his gawky and nerdy partner.

It’s soft and warm (Kon knows he’s going to be hung up on warmth for a while) but changes as Tim presses harder, his lips firming as he takes charge, a hand moving to the short hair on his neck and the other down his shoulder and over his arm to hold him tightly. There’s nothing desperate or urgent about it, but it helps Kon ground himself in reality and reminds him of how much he wants Tim. The future he’s so worried about is a long way away from the here and now.

They eventually part, a few little presses of lips against the other before relaxing back into their loose embrace. “So, who gets to shower first?” Tim asks.

“I was going to let you, as long as you don’t get lost in your head in there. I just want to rinse the chlorine off and take a nap.”

Tim places a chaste little kiss on the corner of his mouth. “That’s what I was planning too. Come on.” He steps out of Kon’s arms and grabs his hand. Kicking off his shoes, he leads Kon into the bathroom.

It would be easy to fool around in the shower, but five minutes seems to be the absolute max that the hot water runs through their pipes, so Kon rinses quickly and wets his hair enough to wash it. He watches Tim standing beneath the water, the rivulets running down his slim shoulders and down his back. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes above the waist, even though he knows he has an open invite to do so now. The smile Tim gives him when they switch places is knowing and Kon can’t help but notice his partner has no such compunctions as his eyes openly wander up and down his body.

The water starts to cool so Kon grabs Tim to give him a chance to rinse before it turns to ice. His hands run over slim hips as he does and he squeezes slightly, the tips of his fingers digging into the top of Tim’s bottom. He steals a quick kiss and lets go, stepping out of the shower.

Tim has a higher tolerance for cold water, so he’s in the shower a bit longer. Kon dries off and wraps his towel around his waist. He exits the bathroom before his partner turns off the water.

He needs a moment to himself, to calm down and not focus on his half hard cock. Tim still needs time to think and work things out for himself. What they just did, while different from what passes for their normal, isn’t too far outside the boundaries they’ve already established. Right now, he needs to move at Tim’s pace and not scare him away.

Kon closes one of the heavier curtains over their window, casting the top of the bed into shadow. The gauzy ones beneath are already fully shut, preventing anyone from seeing clearly into their room. He drops the towel and puts on a clean (dry!) pair of boxers but decides against a shirt. By the time Tim emerges from the bathroom, a fresh bandage on the side of his face (both of their travel kits include a doctored first-aid kit; Kon even has a suture kit in his), he's stretched out on the bed and under the covers.

“Ready for that nap?” he asks.

Tim smiles softly, fondly. “Yeah.” And, in a completely unexpected move, he removes the towel from around his waist and climbs in next to Kon. He lies down facing towards him, his bandage in stark relief against his pale skin and dark hair.

They fall asleep wrapped around each other.

It’s the best nap Kon’s had in ages.

*****

"Shhh!"

Kon stirs to the hissed noise from Tim's lips. He gropes around the bed, finding it empty, and cracks open an eye to find the man perched at the desk, fully dressed, and the face of a familiar blonde in the corner of his computer screen. 

"Don't you shush me!" Stephanie replies, her voice muted and oddly electronic through the speakers. "If your phone battery hadn't died, we could be having this conversation elsewhere. Well, you could, anyway. I'm stuck languishing here in jail."

He can almost hear Tim roll his eyes. "We left you at a spa, Steph. With a credit card. That's hardly jail."

"A credit card with a limit that doesn’t even have my name on it! I bet they wouldn't mind me using it if I was Mrs. Drake," she replies. Wait, what? He must be groggier than he feels. "Anyway, you're doing fun things like getting chased by ghosts. Like you're in _Ghostbusters_ and I'm in some lame film of the same era that no one ever watches because nothing interesting ever happens at a spa full of boring rich ladies!"

Tim's smile is faint in the reflection on the screen. "I didn't leave you at the rich lady spa. I didn't want to have to come collect you for bad behavior within twenty minutes of dropping you off." 

Stephanie snorts. Kon takes it as his cue to actually stretch, exaggeratedly, to signal that he's awake. "Aww," she coos somewhat more loudly. "Now I don't get to watch you wake him with a kiss."

He chooses to ignore that. "What time is it?" He squints at the digital clock like that will somehow remove the pillow from his line of sight.

"Almost four," Tim says with a sigh. 

"You should be getting to the airport. Traffic in Gotham is going to be murder," Stephanie agrees, and Tim's head snaps back to the screen with a force that must hurt. "What?" she questions. "Is it because I said murder?"

"Airport?" Kon asks, sitting up. The bedsheet falls to his waist. That’s fine, he’s been swimming with Steph before. The killer mermaid case off the Florida Keys had been more fun in the sun than anything else, which was very nice for a change.  

Stephanie's eyes widen. "Oh. Oopsie. Bye, Tim!" She disconnects before he can even respond, leaving Kon and Tim both staring at a blank screen.

A knock on the door halts any further interrogation Kon wants to do. Tim seems grateful for the distraction, rushing for the door to get it open. It's, predictably, Jason. He looks half asleep, his hair sticking up in all directions, but he shuffles in and drops onto the bed next to Kon. "What's up?"

"Tim's going to the airport." Kon grimaces a little after he blurts it out. It sounds very much like he's tattling on him. "Were you going to tell me?" he asks Tim accusingly. "Or if I didn't wake up, were you just going to leave?"

Tim sits back at the desk with a huff. "I was waiting to tell both of you until plans were set. You know how I said we needed an exorcism?" They both nod. The expression on Jason's face says clearly that he doesn't like where this is going. "To have an exorcism we need an exorcist," he continues. "You may remember me saying something last night about this, but you two were… _distracted._ I called him while Kon was recovering but he didn't get back to me until this morning to confirm his flight. We've been texting and he's decided he doesn't want to get a rental car."

He lays it out so cleanly. So methodically. Kon knows this trick. He knows how Tim presents things so reasonably so you look like you're the crazy one for protesting his clearly rational plan. "Haven't you been pretty much gnashing at the bit to do an exorcism?" he asks skeptically, but he's kind of hopeful that Tim has realized his limits and is calling in professional help. Dear god, what’s happening to him? Kon’s supposed to be the skeptical one and here he is encouraging the arrival of a professional exorcist.

Isn’t that an oxymoron?

"This is beyond that," Tim replies somberly. "I want to do right by Constance and this isn't some weak, young spirit. I think Harriet has the upper hand over Amadeus but he did the ritual that bound them in the first place. There's so much that could go wrong." He purses his lips, eyes downcast to his socked feet for a moment. "I don't want to risk it. Or either of you. Or even myself."

Kon wants to weep with joy. Finally, Tim is saying what he's been longing for him to realize for years. As it is, he crawls out from under the covers, clumsily scooting to the end of the bed to reach a hand out for Tim. Jason sits up as well. He’s been silent the whole time, letting the FBI agents do their thing. Or what passes for Kon and Tim’s thing because really, they’re not normal agents.

Tim takes it, and squeezes his fingers, but doesn't allow himself to be drawn between the two men. "Airport, remember? I swear with you two around you would never let me leave bed." His cheeks flush a bright red as he says it. Kon finds it more than endearing. He pulls at his hand a little harder and Tim still resists. "His name is John Constantine. He's flying in from London but he's one of the best there is. If not _the_ best." 

"Name sounds familiar," Jason finally chimes in with a shrug. "I'll go change clothes and you can give Kon a chance to put on some clothes. Maybe-"

"No," Tim cuts him off. "No. I'm going myself. I promised dinner to Steph anyway as penance for exiling her from this case." 

Kon sighs. "And God knows we've never seen Stephanie eat or anything. She didn't literally bite my hand when I reached over her to get a piece of bread." The woman has a very healthy appetite, something he definitely approves of. Toothpicks have never been his thing.

"Fine," Tim says. "She's going to ask a million questions about our relationship, and I won't answer a single one and will tell her to ask either one of you instead."

Jason literally recoils from that idea. "I'll stay here. I have some work to do anyway. What I can get done remotely at least." 

Kon feels conflicted. He doesn't want to play fifty very invasive questions with Stephanie. He doesn't want to leave Tim alone. Bad things happen when his partner goes off alone, especially when they’re in the field.

"I'll drive straight there and back. No detours other than dinner with Stephanie. No trips to the school for the whiteboard I still want. Promise." Tim finally leans forward, brushing his lips hesitantly against Kon's. Kon is still savoring it, surprised he feels the same kind of pleasant spark go through him when he watches Tim kiss Jason as well. 

Tim's blushing again as he pulls back and catches Kon’s eye. It’s cute. He clears his throat as he reaches for his trusty messenger bag to start making certain everything he needs is in it. His wallet. A bottle of water. A snack. There's even a binder of documents that Kon is pretty sure he put together in the motel room because he certainly doesn't remember packing it.

Kon takes the opportunity to splash some water on his face and put his jeans and a new t-shirt back on. Normal clothes. Clothes he wants to be buried in. Actually, cremated in. He’s with Jason on this one. Cremation is the way to go, hands down.

"Remember, you're in Gotham," Jason tells Tim. "If anyone approaches the windows then position the car so you can run them over. I’ve got enough dents on my fender, one more won’t matter." 

"You're taking Jason's car?" Kon isn't sure why that surprises him exactly. Maybe he thought he was the only one who let Tim borrow his vehicle. 

Tim smiles knowingly. "Constantine smokes. Like a train. Less chance of damage to Jason's upholstery since it's been exposed."

"You're writing me a note to Alfred saying you put a smoker in my car," Jason replies but he's still handing his keys over to Tim. "He knows I'm trying to quit and he's not gonna be happy."

Kon scoffs, because Jason completely quitting his two cigarette a day smoking habit is about as likely as the sky caving in on them all, but he doesn't protest. His SUV still has that faint new car smell, even with all the crap he’s hauled around in it and he intends to keep it that way for as long as possible. "When should we expect you back? Contingency plan?"

It's maybe a little bit depressing that they have to do this. Too many times of one of them goes missing doing something fairly mundane and now, whenever they’re on a case, they have estimated time frames to meet up again and plans for how to go about tracking the other down.

"An hour each way to the airport. Give me two getting there because of traffic. Another couple of hours for dinner." Tim shrugs into his coat with Jason's help. "Six hours before you worry. Call Steph first if you can't find me and then Constantine. I’ll text you his number." 

"Overkill much?" Jason murmurs. 

"Don't start with me," Kon retorts. "He disappeared when he was buying groceries once. This criminal ring was running some kind of lotto scam out of the store and thought Tim was there to bust them when they realized he was FBI." 

“How’d they find out?”

“My badge fell out of my pocket when I dropped my wallet,” Tim says and darts out the door, waving Jason’s keys.

Jason is still laughing as they watch the car fade from view down the narrow strip of road and into the murky late afternoon. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still Tuesday where we are...so it's not quite late!

"At least the rain has stopped," Kon comments, staring out the window that is definitely meant to look like a porthole. They've ended up in the bar attached to the restaurant next to the motel. It's still nautical themed, but the decor veers more toward celebrating mermaids and kelp from what Kon can gather rather than the fisherman side of things. 

Jason squints as he looks out the admittedly tiny window. "Supposed to be even worse tomorrow. There are flood warnings out and everything." Kon wants to once again accuse him of being a cynical ruiner but the man’s only giving him the weather report and, honestly, he'd be a bitter son of a bitch if he was in Jason's shoes and had his experiences. Not that the man remembers much of them. Just in nightmares that fade away when he wakes up. Hence the morning cigarette.

After Tim left, they had passed a little while in the room with Kon starting to compose his reports and Jason taking care of Wayne Enterprises business, whatever that entailed. A pizza soon followed and they managed to watch one and a half Lifetime original movies before the lack of beer drove them to the bar. Alcohol was definitely needed to sit through one of those, let alone two. 

A small television behind the bar is playing highlights of a football game while a larger one in the corner seems to be stuck on various documentaries about the ocean. Kon admires their dedication but also feels like the execution in this case is kind of lacking.  

The drinks are, likewise, all aquatically themed. After his experience in the pool, Kon was hoping to drink something that doesn't remind him of a watery death. He'd eventually resorted to a beer, but even that was served in a mug with scale patterning all over it. 

Jason, however, has taken it as a personal challenge to at least sample every ridiculous sounding drink on the menu. There are a lot. Kon hopes the hospital is close for a case of alcohol poisoning and he's googled what to do just in case. "Did I have Mermaid Water or Mermaid Lemonade?" he questions, then immediately orders a Fishbowl because he's already worked his way through a good chunk of the mermaid name-based drinks.  

"Tim will be fine," Kon says, and he definitely isn't trying to reassure Jason with the information except he also totally is. "He lived in Gotham, right? And he survived it when he was much smaller and weaker and even more of an idiot."  

It gets Jason to crack a smile. "True. But he had Blondie watching his back early on too. Especially after they were engaged."  

Kon nearly falls off his barstool. He likes to think it's shock and not the mermaid slammers that he'd finished for Jason. He's known Tim forever. Well, basically forever. The Academy felt like forever ago after all the shit he’s seen and done with the eccentric man that is his partner. "Engaged?" he sputters, eyes wide.  

They are momentarily interrupted by the arrival of Jason's drink which does indeed look like a fishbowl. "Oooh," Jason coos, holding it up to peer into the round glass. He’s definitely had a few too many. Good thing Kon doesn’t have to worry about driving his ass anywhere (that’s what 911 is for, he decided when he helped finish those slammers). "Pretty."  

"Quit it," Kon tells him, but he's staring at the little fake fish in the bottom of the liquid too. "Engaged?" 

The full-throated laugh Jason has is attractive as hell. Smoky and deep in his chest, entirely sensual, and already making his stomach do little flips. Or ridiculing, he forces himself to think. It's currently pretty ridiculing. He glowers and Jason bumps their thighs together. The man is a freaking heater, even now. 

"I'll stop," Jason says with a shit-eating grin. "But yeah. Engaged. I wouldn't have known except Dick mentioned it to me. Asked how she was and if I had her number."  

Kon should know this. Jason has two brothers, a younger and an older one. He’s complained about both of them before, but there’s always been booze involved, so his memory is spotty. "Dick?" 

"Older brother. Also adopted. Good with the ladies until they get to know him and usually punch him." Jason watches him. Kon must still be staring dumbly because he clarifies. "Circus acrobat? Nice butt? Works as a cop but I'm personally not entirely convinced he's not a stripper..." 

"Tim's engaged," Kon repeats. Those three words are swirling around in his head in a desperate cyclone of confusion. He nearly chokes on his next sip of beer at the implications of it. How long has this been a thing? Why does he not know? Why is Stephanie actively planning his wedding to Tim if she's going to marry him herself? "I had a threesome with a man who is engaged? To a woman? Who is not me?"

Aunt Martha would never approve of that. He would die of shame. He's made his peace with maybe being gay (probably bi) but being a home-wrecker is kind of an unforgivable sin. 

Jason's fingers are in his drink as he tries to grab one of the fish off the bottom. He looks up, startled. "What? Oh shit! No! He's not anymore! This was ages ago." His hand, the one not dyed blue by the drink, rubs the back of his neck. "Don't know what happened there exactly. She was in danger or somethin’. Left Gotham. Rumors went around that Tim offed her to go blow dudes?" 

He looks at Kon like he might know. The FBI agent kinda wants to cry. With relief or the need to slap Jason he's not sure. 

"Point being," the other man continues, bumping his thigh again in what Kon thinks is supposed to be a comforting gesture. "He'll be fine. He's a tough cookie wrapped in a very clumsy package." Finally, he extracts the fish from the bottom of his drink, squishing it skeptically between his fingers. "It's a gummy." 

"You thought it would be real?" Kon is desperately drinking his beer, hoping it will ease the panicked tightness that had overtaken his chest.  

Jason throws it at him. It wetly smacks against his cheek before dropping onto his leg. "No, asshole. Thought maybe plastic or ice."  

Kon scowls again and rubs at the wet spot on his face. It’s sticky. He tries to intensely focus on the football game on the tiny TV but he can't even tell what's going on. There's no avoiding this. Avoiding his feelings, avoiding the fact that he was for a moment insanely jealous of Steph and afraid of losing Tim. Or the fact he's still sort of envious that Jason is privy to information about Tim's life that he's not.  

Now it's Jason's turn to reassure him. "High society things are weird," he offers uncertainly and Kon feels incredibly petty that he requires this kind of handling from anyone. He's supposed to be the reasonable one. Jason takes a long swallow from his fishbowl and makes a face. Kon hopes it's a comment on the quality of the alcohol and not the company. "I don't know any more about it than that. Cross my heart."  

He wonders when they made a pact to tell each other everything they could about Tim Drake. They never did, he decides. Tim is full of secrets, especially after the last year and the way Jason crashed into their lives. Kon remembers thinking back then that his partner had some kind of crush on the man next to him, which was okay at the time because he himself still had no idea what it was he’d wanted. The night Tim came back from visiting Jason in the hospital and cried himself sick in his arms is still all too vivid in his memory. The way he held his hands over his mouth to keep anyone else from hearing had torn at something deep inside Kon and most definitely pushed them from partners to entirely best friends. Tim had been a shadow after that, even more consumed with his work than he'd been before, distant and more private even when Steph convinced them to go Bigfoot hunting in Alaska. Cold sometimes, indifferent in others. Stephanie’s arrival from wherever the hell she’d been helped, but she also fed into the zaniness and obsession in seeing conspiracies where there weren’t any. 

Tim’s easy smile has only just been returning of late. It makes him stupid happy to see it. Kon finishes his beer and sets the scaled mug aside. 

"So," Jason says, blinking into his mostly empty fishbowl and sucking on one of the gummies. His fingers are bluer than before. "Read any good books lately?"

The bartender brings Kon another beer without being asked. He’s really starting to think mermaid slammers were a bad idea as he eats the gummy fish off of his pants leg. "I read a People magazine about three months ago in the car while I was waiting for Tim to get out of a tree at a gas station." Jason looks at him critically. "The tree had some kind of strange fruit on it he wanted to look at. I don't know, I'm just the driver." 

"If that were true then I would just be a case study," Jason laments. "And we wouldn't be getting drunk in this aquamarine inspired hell and worrying about him." 

After sharing a rueful laugh, they move on to other, non-Tim, related topics. Jason tells him about his most recent flight to New York and how he successfully coaxed the child sitting in front of him to put peanuts up her nose without a word. Kon reciprocates by telling a series of cow-tipping adventures that have Jason banging his fist on the bar and wiping his eyes he's laughing so hard. It makes him feel warm inside, proud to have Jason so at ease, and it reminds him that once he had a life outside his very weird job. The Wayne heir, as it turns out, is actually rather curious about life on a farm, which is kind of surprising for the big city guy. Kon is extending an offer to have him visit before he even thinks of how it would look or how to explain it.  

They last until the bartender not so subtly suggests they leave, probably after the sixth or seventh disparaging remark Jason has made about his latest drink. It's a yellow, red, and blue monstrosity called a Siren's Song that he insists is poorly named because it is not alluring or musical. Kon is sober enough by then to drag Jason out and back toward his room before he causes an incident. 

Jason's room has a simple double bed. There is a stack of books on the bedside table and his laptop on his desk. It's not the technological wonder that his shared room with Tim is, but it's cozy. Jason shuts and locks the door behind them, scooting a chair in front of it a moment later. "What?" Kon asks carefully. His gun is in his room. "You see something?" 

A head shake in the negative is his answer. "Never do before it's too late," Jason answers cryptically and flops onto his bed. Kon sits next to him, noticing this bed isn’t anywhere near as comfortable as his. He and Tim got lucky. 

Jason grunts and rolls over, his face resting dangerously close to Kon’s thigh. He can smell the booze roiling off the man. He starts fingering the brand on his chest through his thin t-shirt. 

"Does it still hurt?" Kon can't help but ask. Can't help but wonder. Dealing with Jason and more intimate things like this has always been Tim's domain and now suddenly it's not. He touches Jason's hand.  

Jason moves it, allowing him to touch the mark through the fabric. After a moment, Kon slides his hand inside the shirt to touch bare skin. He knows Jason's had reconstructive surgery. He knows he's still having treatments. The scar doesn't feel like the horrifying thing it actually is when you see it. "Yeah," he admits. "Off and on. People say it's always going to do that.” 

“Doctors?” Kon inquires. He's still petting over the wound, feeling the ridges that are receding into the muscled plane of Jason's chest. 

“No.” His tone is so flat that Kon lets it drop. They are in the quiet for a moment, Kon lulled into a kind of comfortable complacency by the hum of the air conditioner kicking on in the stuffy room. “It's funny, y'know? Tim says all the time how he woulda traded places with me and I believe him. Because he wouldn't have wanted me to suffer but more than that. He wants...this. This way I was born. A lightning rod for weird shit.” Jason snorts. His arm lifts up and wraps around Kon’s thigh, his face now flush against the denim. 

There’s nothing overtly sexual about it, and Kon knows the man is more than a little drunk. He runs his fingers through Jason’s wavy hair, noting how the texture is ever so slightly different with that shock of white across his brow. Jason sighs and leans into the touch. It's odd how easily he's fallen into step with Jason considering how long he's been after Tim; they are such different people and lead such different lives, but at the same time, there’s a thread of commonality between them, so much more so than just his partner. 

“That's the thing with Tim,” Kon admits. “He's such an asshole when he's on the trail of something. Just a total inconsiderate jackass.” Jason huffs in amusement and Kon can't help but smile. “But he's the epitome of selfless, when it gets down to it. He would have traded himself ten times over for you to not suffer, or for me. It's like that with strangers, too. He cares so much that it seems like he doesn't care at all.” Just like he thought earlier. Compartmentalization. He doesn't just know that because he's witnessed a few of Tim's recovery sessions after difficult cases. 

“I know.” Jason's voice is soft, almost muffled against his leg. “I think you would have, too. Saved me sooner if you would have been given the chance. Even when you didn't believe.” He’s quiet a moment, before he continues, rolling onto his back to stare up at Kon. “I just…I dunno how I’m supposed to fit into this _dynamic_ of yours. You and Tim…when you two are in sync, it’s fuckin’ amazing and just…you guys have these entire conversations with just lookin’ at each other and how the fuck can I even compare to that? What the hell do I bring to this table, huh?” 

And there it is. The moment of truth. Kon hopes to god Jason remembers this conversation in the morning. He’s never been around the man when he’s _this_ drunk before. He sighs and runs a hand through his short hair. This isn’t going to be easy. Feelings never are. “Well, if we’re going there, then you’re the one Tim actually _wants_ ,” he says. “I’m his partner. And yeah, we’re close and all; we trust each other like no one’s business, especially out here. But when it comes down to it, he’s wanted you for _years_ , Jay. Not me. _You_.” 

It sucks saying it, especially because it’s true. At some point, he’ll need to bow out of this little threesome. Because it will be him. He can’t deny the passion and the heat in the looks Tim and Jason exchanged last night, how if circumstances had been different, it would have been Tim gladly in Kon’s place, leaving him to be the one looking on. 

He knows all too well that if it had been him walking in on those two, he’d have just as quickly shut the door and walked around the parking lot a few times, perhaps gone to the bar and shot back some of those mermaid slammers. 

“Kon,” Jason breathes, his vibrant blue eyes piercing as he sits up. He wobbles a bit and grabs hold of Kon’s shoulder to steady himself. “Fuck, I wish I was sober for this. Seriously though, you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. I know who’ll win in the end, but fuck me if I’m not gonna enjoy myself until it happens.” 

“Aren’t we quite the pair?” Kon says, shaking his head. “We’re already giving up before anything’s really happened.” 

“Damn martyrs, that’s what we are.” Jason chuckles into his neck. 

“I just,” Kon stops and tries to think of the words, trying to put together what he’s been feeling all day into something that makes some coherent form of sense. “I like you, Jason. I do. Just, not the way I like Tim.” 

“Likewise,” Jason replies, his face smooshed against his shoulder as he starts to go limp against him. Kon helps him lay down and settles in next to him. The other man immediately curls up and rests his head on Kon’s shoulder. “But, I dunno. Maybe it was because I had your cock up my ass last night, but I kinda like you more than I did before?” 

Kon snorts at the words because yeah, he gets it. “Same. I guess sex really does change everything.” 

“Mmhmm,” the big man agrees, running a hand absently over Kon’s chest. He doesn’t seem to be aware he’s doing it, so Kon doesn’t stop him. “I wonder what would happen if we did it again.” 

“Dude, I saw how much you drank tonight. If you can even make it twitch, I’d be impressed.” 

There’s an honest to god look of concentration on Jason’s face as he tries and Kon starts laughing. 

“Nope, not happening,” Jason finally says. “I think I’m gonna go throw up some of this shitty alcohol. You mind gettin’ me a water bottle for after?” 

“Sure thing.” 

Kon helps Jason into the bathroom to worship the porcelain god. He leaves the room and enters his just long enough to grab his keys. In the back of the SUV, he keeps a flat of water bottles for emergencies. They hadn’t been removed during the Tetris game he played to get all of Tim’s ghost crap in the vehicle. 

By the time he gets back with a few and locks the door behind him, placing the chair under the knob again, he finds Jason stripped down and sitting in the shower with the curtain half closed, what feels like cool water washing over him. The bathroom smells faintly of vomit, but the toilet is flushed so there’s nothing he can do about it. He doesn’t let the man’s bare skin distract him, even though there’s plenty to see, plenty that he’s technically allowed to look at now. 

“Feel better?” Kon asks, nudging a water into Jason’s hand. 

“Yeah,” Jason growls. His voice sounds wrecked. “I really should know better than to drink anything that shade of electric blue. Nothing good ever comes of it.” He cracks open the bottle and takes a cautious sip. 

“That’s me and tequila,” Kon replies, settling in next to the shower. Jason hasn’t told him to leave yet and, to be honest, he doesn’t want to be alone right now. That and he’s pretty certain when a certain someone decides it’s time to get out of the shower, he’ll need the extra hand. 

“You just haven’t had the good shit.” Jason starts talking about this one place out west somewhere that he’d been to while on business that had the best margaritas he’s ever tasted in his life, taking occasional swigs from the water bottle. “And the tequila flight, man. Fuck, but I wish I could remember the name of the place right now. I didn’t even mind the hangover the next morning.” 

“I’m a simple guy with simple tastes,” Kon tries to say with a shrug, but Jason cracks open an eye and glares. 

“You’re far from simple, corn boy. If you were, then Tim wouldn’t be givin’ you the time of day. Me neither for that matter.” 

That was…nice, Kon decides. Jason is so much more right than he knows too. “I still don’t know what he sees in me,” he says instead. 

“His dick,” Jason responds with a snort of laughter. 

Kon shoves him, not caring that he’s getting wet. “Jackass." 

Jason tries to pull him into the shower, but Kon has better traction and is sober, so it doesn’t work out well. The empty water bottle is chucked at his head instead. “You could get in here with me,” he offers, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. “I may not be able to get it up, but you can.” 

Really? Is that where Jason’s mind is going? “I’ve got a thing against the cold right now,” Kon offers instead. “Besides, you’re still drunk.” 

“I’m not as think as you drunk I am,” the man retorts, not even missing a beat over the overused line. “Besides, I kinda want to blow you.” 

That does all kinds of things to Kon and his eyes immediately fall to Jason’s full mouth. “Tempting, but you’re still more drunk than you think you are. I wouldn’t want you to choke.” 

Jason waggles his tongue at him. 

“Drink this, take a piss, and if you can make it back to bed without falling over, I’ll _think_ about it.” Kon hands him the second water bottle, stands, and leaves Jason to figure things out, but he stays close to the bathroom in case the man needs a hand. He hears the water turn off and doesn’t hear any _thunks_ , so he takes that as a good sign. 

Still, he thinks as he settles back on the bed, taking the side closest to the door, as tempting as it is, a blow job isn’t in the plans for tonight. If Jason were a little more sober, then maybe, but he’d seen just how much the man put away earlier. Even if those things weren’t watered down, it was still an impressive amount. 

In the silence, Kon hears the flush of the toilet, followed by the sound of running water from the sink. Jason stumbles out of the bathroom completely naked and somehow staggers his way across the room only to collapse face first on the bed. 

Called it. 

“You alive over there?” he asks, carefully prodding the man’s shoulder. 

“Murmpht,” is all Kon hears from the pillow. 

“Sorry, I’m not fluent in drunk mutterings. Drunk curses, yes.” He’s delivered more than his fair share too, usually directed at Tim. 

Jason moves his face enough so as to be able to breathe. “You’re an asshole,” he mumbles. “And you’re fuckin’ right. I’m swallowing no one’s dick tonight. Raincheck?” 

Kon chuckles and runs a hand through Jason’s damp hair. “Sure, why not?” 

“Tim can watch,” Jason smiles dreamily, at the thought or the touch, Kon isn’t sure. 

There’s nothing to really say about that because yeah, it kind of does it for him too.

Kon helps Jason under the covers and hands him the last water bottle. “Did you drink the other one?” he checks. 

Jason nods and sets it on the nightstand. “I had to pee afterwards. Didn’t think I had to go that badly until I got started. Broke the damn seal.” 

“Isn’t that always the way?” 

Jason hums in agreement before nudging Kon with his shoulder. “Get the remote. I wanna see if that lady in the movie realized it was her neighbor who poisoned the cookies for her husband's bake sale.” 

The movie is probably long-since over; Kon turns on the station anyway. 

~*~*~ 

Tim manages to make it back to the motel just before ten. From the window in his room, Kon catches sight of him and a tall man in a khaki trenchcoat before they go into the main office. Lucky timing as the old man there closes up shop for the night around then. He passes the man a room key as they exit, and heads back to the room he shares with Kon. 

The guy doesn't look like an exorcist. Especially not when he lingers outside his room with the faint glow of a match illuminating blonde hair and a tired face. He's not sure what he expected, but weren’t exorcists supposed to be priests? And Catholic priests at that? 

“Not feeling social?” he asks when Tim enters their room. Kon doesn't even hide the fact he's peeking out the window, having left Jason snoring and tucked into his own bed about an hour ago. He made sure to leave a light on. Something told him the man didn’t like to sleep in the dark. 

“Jet lagged, pissed off he couldn't smoke on the flight, and grumpy as a bear,” Tim replies. He sounds exhausted and just _done_ with everything. “You think I'm bad when I haven't had coffee? You haven't seen him without nicotine. He's like me after three days of no coffee right now.” 

Kon winces. That is pretty bad. The last time (the only time) that happened had been when he’d enacted his revenge on Tim for the disastrous Alaska trip. “Glad you're back, anyway,” he offers. 

Tim is already stripping out of his things and he grunts an acknowledgment as he disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes. He must be tired, despite their afternoon nap. 

“How was the trip? Stephanie?” Kon asks when his partner emerges. He knows now is not the time to confront him with information about a former engagement. “Do we have a game plan for tomorrow?” 

“You and your...sports...ball…whatever.” Tim yawns hugely in the middle of the insult. He's already crawling into bed, stripped down to his socks and underwear. Kon makes space and scoots over. His partner doesn’t seem like he’s in the mood for cuddles. Tim flops down and gives him an appreciative look. “Steph is pissed off about everything but her skin is glowing. Constantine is just...draining in every capacity imaginable. We’ll get breakfast whenever he wakes up in the morning and head to the school. That everything?” 

“Yup.” Kon nods in satisfaction. Short and succinct, but this is Tim to a tee when he’s tired. 

Before crashing himself, he makes sure the door is locked and turns off the lights. He silently sighs as he remembers the monitors taking up all the space on the desk. They’ve been purposefully neglected all night. “I'll take monitor duty,” he says reluctantly. Those cameras are creepy as hell, even if Harriet doesn’t wave at them. 

“Don't worry about it if you're tired,” Tim answers back lazily. He’s already half asleep. “It's recording, anyway.” 

Kon takes that as the invite it is and returns to bed. It’s barely five minutes later that he feels Tim pressed up along his back. 

***** **  
**

The next morning, Kon awakens to someone knocking on their door. Actually, it sounds more like it’s being kicked, but not in a way that means imminent breakage. Still, training being what it is, he smoothly rolls out of bed and has his gun drawn as he approaches. Peering through the peephole, he sees Jason’s familiar scowl. 

Kon sets the gun aside, unlocks the door and opens it. “Why are you kicking…” he trails off, spotting the three full coffee mugs in Jason’s large hands. 

“Trick or treat,” he says as he passes Kon on his way into the room. “I saw my car when I went out for my cigarette earlier, so I figured our boy made it back in one piece.” 

Said _boy_ was still passed out in bed, not even stirring. 

Jason stares and shakes his head. “I wish I could sleep like that.” There’s a hint of longing in his voice. 

“What about last night?” Kon asks, closing the door behind him and taking one of the mugs from Jason. 

“Eh, drinking until I pass out isn’t as restful as it seems, especially when _someone_ ,” Jason gazes meaningfully at Kon, “is bound and determined to make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit.” 

“You did that yourself,” he replies easily and wonders how much of last night the man remembers. He sips from the coffee mug and is pleased to discover he’d grabbed the right one. Either that or Jason doctored them all the same way as Tim really will drink whatever is put in front of him, at least first thing in the morning. He gets pickier as the day progresses. 

Jason shrugs and sets the other mug down on the nightstand closest to Tim. He stares thoughtfully down at the still slumbering FBI agent. He’s already stolen all the blankets. “Does he ever go from instant sleep to wide awake?” 

“Only a few times that I’ve ever seen, but it’s up for debate on whether he was ever asleep in the first place.” 

The comment earns him a wry smirk and an eye roll. “I wonder…” Jason says thoughtfully and turns his gaze to Kon. 

“Oh?” He recognizes that look in his eyes. It was the same heated expression as the other night. 

“I bet we could have sex right next to him and he wouldn’t even twitch.” 

Kon can’t help the chuckle that escapes. “You like sex, don’t you?” 

Jason shrugs his heavy shoulders again. “With the right person, I do.” 

Sipping at his coffee, Kon decides to play along for the moment. “You’ve only had sex with me once and the circumstances weren’t exactly the greatest.” 

“I’m game for round two whenever you are. I owe you a raincheck too.” Jason winks and raises his mug to his mouth. 

“Technically, we both still owe Tim a round one.” And there’s the monkey wrench getting tossed into things. 

“All he has to do is say the word and he could have either or both of us begging in an instant.” 

This is so very true. Kon sighs and hides behind his coffee mug as he tries to think this through. As tempting as the offer sounds, Tim is just as insecure about all of this as he is. As Jason is. It dawns on him that this is how Jason copes with insecurities. Bluff, bluster, and a good dose of bravado. Well-earned bravado to be sure, but still. 

Jason deserves better. Kon decides to have a little talk with Tim about this later. 

But he doesn’t want to put out the hopeful light in the man’s eyes either, so he sets down his mug on the desk and wraps his arms around Jason’s waist, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “He has us both wrapped around his fingers. We should consider ourselves lucky he’s not sure how to pull the strings yet.” 

“Hmmm,” Jason nuzzles into the side of Kon’s neck, carefully holding his coffee mug out to the side to avoid spilling it. “I wonder what he’ll make us do first?” 

“Give me more coffee and you’ll find out.” 

Both men jerk at the unexpected voice and turn towards the bed. Tim is sitting up against the headboard with his coffee in hand. His hair is a mess of sleep tousled waves but his pale blue eyes are oddly intent for so early in the morning. Eight hours of solid sleep has done him good. 

“Well, good morning to you too,” Jason drawls lazily and lets go of Kon, passing off his mug as he does. He closes the gap between him and the bed and leans down to kiss him. It’s short and sweet and Kon wants to grin at the sappy smile on his partner’s face. 

Tim locks eyes with Kon as Jason flops down next to him on the bed. “Where’s my good morning kiss?” he asks cheekily. 

“Right here,” Kon replies with a laugh. He sets down Jason’s coffee mug next to his and approaches the bed. Bending over, he locks lips with his partner and smiles at the contented look on Tim’s face as he pulls away. 

“Why is it that I always seem to find you two about to start something without me?” Tim asks, fiddling with the cheap mug. He sounds comfortable, but Kon recognizes the fidget for what it is. Insecurity. 

Jason grins and rolls close enough to Tim to plant a kiss along the bare skin of his thigh. The gentle touch sends a slight shudder through him, one that Kon watches with interest. “We’re just practicing for when you finally relax enough to let us in.” 

Tim runs a hand through Jason’s barely controlled waves. The humidity from the rain is making them almost curly. “I wish it was as easy for me as it seems to be for you guys.” His eyes dart back up to Kon. 

“We’re not forcing you to do anything before you’re ready,” Kon replies earnestly. “And to be honest, it’s not easy for us either. We’re still figuring things out too.” 

Jason sits up and nods. “Corn boy is right. Never really thought I’d be getting him as part of this, but,” with that his eyes rake over Kon in a very obvious once over, “I can’t say I’m complaining.” 

Tim’s eyes narrow slightly as he thinks this over. “What was that I heard about a raincheck?” he finally asks. 

Kon snickers as he catches Jason’s eye. The man has the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself. Just slightly. “Jason decided it would be a fantastic idea to try out every mermaid themed drink at the bar last night while you were gone.” 

“I also thought it would be a good idea to try and suck Kon’s cock while I was at it,” Jason retorts, but there’s a grin on his face. “He didn’t let me. Said I would choke. I think he just didn't want his lap puked on.” 

Tim starts laughing, full-bodied and loud and so damned relaxed that Kon wants to bottle it up and save it. He so rarely gets to hear this laugh and treasures it every time he does. 

Before things can go any further, there’s another knock at the door, this one more normal sounding than Jason’s boots hitting it. 

Kon goes to answer it, grabbing an undershirt to put on as he does. Opening it, he sees the blonde man from last night. 

The exorcist. 

“Morning,” the man says. “I think this is the right room.” His British accent is thick, as is the reek of cigarettes wafting from his trenchcoat. 

“It is,” Kon replies. “I’m Conner Kent, Tim’s partner.” He holds out his hand. 

“John Constantine.” The man grips his hand firmly as they shake. 

“Tim just got up. Gimme a minute to get him decent.” Kon closes the door and heads to the dresser. The weather outside is already looking worse than yesterday, so he decides to do as Jason did and wear jeans. He still puts on a polo shirt because he wants to keep some semblance of professional authority about him. 

Tim is already in the bathroom, the door shut behind him. 

“He’s got clothes in there,” Jason says from his perch on the end of the bed. 

“Great.” With that, Kon returns to the door and opens it fully. “Come on in,” he says to the waiting man. 

The exorcist enters, saunters really, but Kon doesn’t miss how his eyes are taking in everything, assessing his surroundings. This is a man who’s seen things. Done things. Is possibly even haunted by those things. He knows this because he does the same thing whenever he goes somewhere new. Tim does it. Jason does it. 

Blue eyes stop on Jason and narrow slightly. “You look familiar, mate,” Constantine says. 

Jason shrugs. “I got one of those faces,” he offers with a wry smirk. “Jason Todd,” he says with a nod rather than a handshake. 

Kon notes how he doesn’t include the Wayne part of his name. 

“John Constantine,” the man says again, also with a nod. Turning to Kon, he turns that assessing eye on him. “Drake was telling me on the drive here last night that you had quite the encounter the other day. Not much of an unbeliever now, are ya?” He winks. 

“I believe in that ghost,” Kon replies with a shrug. “And her dad. Hard not to believe in him when he’s trying to use an axe on my friend here.” He gestures to Jason. 

Constantine shifts so that Jason is included in the conversation. “I hear you’re a bit of a beacon for the strange and unusual.” 

“If you have any suggestions for how to turn that off, I’m all ears,” Jason replies. “It fuckin’ sucks, man.” 

Tim emerges from the bathroom, looking schlumpy as usual in his wrinkled suit. Kon is pretty sure that’s the same one that took a swim yesterday. He sighs and opens the drawer where Tim’s clothes are put away. He grabs a pair of jeans and throws them at his partner. “Dude. Seriously. Ditch the suit. That one’s better off in the trash and you know it.” 

“Fine,” Tim huffs and returns to the bathroom to change. 

“Hasn’t had his morning cuppa yet?” Constantine asks. 

“Oh, he’s had his first cup,” Kon replies. “His brain doesn’t usually turn on until the second.” 

*****

Breakfast is an event in and of itself. The four men load up in Kon’s SUV (no, you can’t smoke in here, Constantine) and drive to a diner that has a lax smoking policy and all you can eat pancakes. 

Kon is usually not sure what to make of any of the supernatural creatures (or their respective hunters) that Tim somehow involves him with, and this guy is no different. Constantine seems educated. He puts Tim to shame for addictions. He’s also not a priest and never has been. In fact, if Kon is reading things right, he’s one of those beacons for the strange that Tim so very much wishes to be. But rather than run away from it like Jason tries hard to do, he embraces it. 

“Yeah, my family has been involved with the occult off and on going back generations,” Constantine explains. “It skips around sometimes. My da was never touched by it, but I sure as hell am.” 

“So you’re more than just an exorcist?” Kon asks, debating on just how many pancakes he wants to devour. Odds are good there will be running at some point during the day, so he doesn’t need to be in a food coma or dealing with a sugar crash. 

Across from him, Tim doesn’t seem to have any such compunctions and happily plows through his second plate. The coffee carafe is planted firmly in front of him. 

“I’m a regular jack of all trades,” Constantine replies. He’s been steadily working his way through a plate of eggs and sausage rather than pancakes. “But I’ve been known to do a few exorcisms in my day. Usually demons. A haunted school is a bit different.” 

Kon can’t help but notice Jason is picking at his meal rather than eating with much enthusiasm. He’d gone even more simple, opting for toast, some eggs, and a cup of tea. But then again, the man is likely nursing quite the hangover. 

“What do you think of this case, then?” he asks. 

The blonde exorcist shrugs and takes a bite of his sausage. After a moment, he replies. “It’s an interesting story, that’s for certain. The spirits are bound to the location. Even if parts of the original building hadn’t been used, they’d still be there. I need to see one of them for myself to get a better idea of how to proceed.” 

A bitter taste rises in the back of Kon’s throat. 

“We’ll go to the library when we get to the school,” Tim chimes in, wiping his mouth on his napkin. He looks more put together with the jeans and his dark blue dress shirt than he did in the suit. “Perhaps Constance is willing to help.” 

“Better her than the others,” Kon mutters while Jason nods in agreement. 

Constantine leans back in his chair and gazes thoughtfully at Jason. “I understand why these two morons are involved, but I can’t quite figure you out,” he finally says. “You’re touched, like me. I can feel that. But there’s something else about you too.” 

Jason glares sullenly, looking for all the world like a petulant teenager. “I’m demon touched,” he replies eventually. “I repel and attract these ghosts.” 

If Kon wasn’t already looking at the exorcist, he’d have missed the sudden spark of recognition in the man’s eyes. 

“Ah, you’re the bait then,” Constantine says instead. “Is the touch visible?”

“On my chest.” 

“Brilliant. Keep it covered for now. We’ll have you flash the ghosts if they get a little too aggressive.” 

From across the table, Kon barely hears Tim mumbling about salt. He chuckles and kicks his partner’s leg under the table, just hard enough to get his attention. “Does throwing salt at them work?” he asks Constantine. 

“Nah, that’s for witches,” the man replies easily and starts attacking his eggs. 

Tim’s hopeful expression falls flat and the muttering continues as he starts typing on his phone, no doubt to share the news with Stephanie. Jason and Kon share an amused glance and Kon wonders if throwing salt at Constantine would do any good. He seems to have no problem eating it, having sprinkled some on his eggs at the beginning of the meal. 

The man is a conundrum, that much he’s certain of. How much of one, that remains to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, fluff. I think we all needed that.


	8. Chapter 8

After breakfast, they return to the school. They’re barely halfway up the sidewalk to the main doors when the heavens open up and rain pours down. Kon reaches the awning over the doors first and fumbles with the keys to unlock them. He would much rather be sitting in his car doing surveillance on a suspect than walk back into this building (hell, he'd rather be doing just about anything), but duty calls. 

A bright flash of lightning streaks across the sky and barely five counts later, thunder rumbles heavily. 

Constantine reaches out and grabs the door as Kon is about to push it open. “Let me go in first,” he says. “See what happens.” 

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say no, that he’s the trained professional for dangerous situations, but he bites it back. Under these particular circumstances, he is woefully outclassed and it galls him to admit it. He also has no desire to see Harriet Arkham ever again. He knows he's going to; his fate in life is to disappoint his own hopes. 

“Sure,” Kon replies. “Need a few minutes or should we just follow behind?” 

“Gimme to the count of a hundred. Where’s the library again?” 

Tim relays the directions, finishing with, “If you need us, shout.” 

The exorcist’s smirk says exactly what he thinks about that and disappears inside the building. 

“Cocky bastard.” Jason stares after him, shaking his head. 

“What is it?” Kon asks, finally giving voice to the question he’s been wanting to ask all morning while Tim slowly counts. 

“There’s just something about him,” he replies, pulling his leather jacket tighter over his chest. “I feel like I know him, but I can’t remember where.” 

Tim tilts his head, looking like he's highly considering that. “Maybe in another life,” he offers. 

“Oh no. Don't start that,” Kon replies. “Maybe it's both because you have that lightning rod for the mystical thing going on.” 

“Yeah.” But Jason remains unconvinced. “Is anyone actually counting anymore?” 

Kon shrugs. “Fifty,” Tim says. “Fifty-one. Fifty-two...is it good or bad there hasn't been any screaming yet?” 

“What, like you'll fly an exorcist in from another country only for the ghosts to completely disappear?” Jason questions. 

“Ugh. Now that you mention it...” Tim pouts. His lower lip extends in a way that makes Kon have the unhealthy (and fairly recent) urge to bite it and pull on it. “Wait, where was I in the counting?” 

Kon sighs. “Start at fifty and we should be done when you count down to one.” 

Tim does. Kon enters the building first, hearing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. The lights that kick on automatically when someone steps into the hallway are still lit. There are no evil little girls and no men in wedding dresses. The trend continues as they walk toward the library. 

His partner stops at one of his cameras, following the daily ritual of checking the equipment and swapping out battery packs. “I'm starting to feel like this is a little useless,” Tim admits. “But I've gotten some great footage. The security cameras here all go on the fritz, but my stuff has stayed solid so far. Only a little spectral static.” 

“Spectral what now?” Jason asks, blinking. Kon's pretty sure he's still half asleep, retreated inside the safe space in his brain that doesn't have a hangover. 

“Static. It's what ghosts use to interfere with electronics,” Tim explains. “Something about their electromagnetic fields tends to damage video equipment. Audio too, in some cases. Depends on the ghost and their intent.” 

Kon might find it a little weird Harriet hasn't totally destroyed Tim's cameras out of spite but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth in this case. He tries to keep watch while Tim trades out equipment. That's his job. That's what he should do. But he finds himself staring a little too hard at shadows, realizes he's tensing at what might appear in the empty hallway instead of focusing on what's already there. Nothing. He shouldn't be afraid of shadows. 

Thunder crashes overhead and Jason grimaces. Kon's not wild about it either, honestly. There's no sunlight coming in the windows. He feels that odd sense like he's completely lost track of time and it's already evening. Altogether, unsettling. It's a relief for them to get to the library without incident. 

Constantine is there, sitting on one of the beanbags in the center of the room.  “Don't think she likes me yet,” he tells Tim. “She'll get used to me.” Like Constance is a dog and not a ghost. If only. 

Jason goes around the library, turning on every lamp he can find. Kon decides that's not a bad idea, rummaging through the storage nook for some candles and flashlights just in case the electricity goes out. Tim simply stares at Constantine like he might be able to get tips from him or simply absorb what he's doing through observation alone.

Kon hopes he doesn't pick up the smoking habit, at least. He might not mind the accent for a while. It's rather...what's the word? Plummy? 

Jason is trying to figure out how to turn on a floor lamp with the shade pops off on its own, giving him a better view of the switch. “Uhm. Thanks?” He tries for a smile. Kon can see how awkward and forced it is. The man doesn't smile often (he smirks) and now he's having to smile at nothing. “That was you, right, Constance?” 

The red marker on the dry erase board lifts, then drops back down again without writing anything. 

“Think she likes you, mate. She won't interact with me.” Constantine eases back, spreading his arms over the chair. “Come on, love. I told you I'm not here for any rough stuff.” 

“He's really not,” Jason supplies. “He's just here to help. “ 

“Shh!” Tim urges. “What's that?” 

Kon hears it. The slam of something down the hall from the library. A rustling sound, like dried leaves. “The bats?” he suggests. He hasn't actually seen the bats, or even heard them at all since they’ve arrived, despite the stories about them. 

Constantine stands. They face the door. “This is ridiculous,” Jason says. “I'll just go take a look.” But Tim's hand is on his chest, holding him in place as the noise gets closer and closer. At least it's not the sound of a bouncing ball, and Kon irrationally wants to laugh at the relief he feels over that. 

“Might be show time sooner than expected,” Constantine murmurs. He's positioning himself like Kon does when he thinks he might be in for a fight. What good that’s going to do against a ghost, he’s not entirely sure, even as he settles into the same position. The noise draws closer, stopping just outside the library. 

The lights go out with a loud _crack_ of thunder. The double doors burst open. Kon is pretty sure that Tim screams first, but he wouldn't absolutely swear to it. They're all temporarily blinded from the power outage and there's a figure in the doorway to the library. It shines in a flash of lightning, vaguely humanoid and wet. _Slimy_ and Kon has a near panic attack over that as it takes one squishing, dripping step toward them. 

Then Jason rushes the thing, yelling something that might be his war cry. Tim screams his name. Kon lunges for Tim to keep him from getting in the line of fire. The figure screams, high and relatively girlish, arms flailing in front of it. “No, no, wait!” 

It's Constantine who thinks enough to shine a flashlight on it. Kon catches sight of purple plastic, and wide blue eyes. “ _Stephanie?!?_ ” Tim shrieks, possibly bursting Kon's eardrum. 

The lights come back on. Sure enough, there stands Stephanie Brown. She has a purple rain poncho slung over her that is half covered in mud and completely covered in water. Her hair is plastered to her face. 

“Take it this is the lamb who was angry at being left behind?” Constantine asks practically and turning off the flashlight. He's so cool about all of this. Kon tells himself it's because he hasn't suffered days of near constant panic and he's far more used to this craziness than Kon is. “How could you do such a thing to such a vision of loveliness?” 

“Oh stop,” Steph says with a little giggle. She eyes Jason appraisingly. “Not that I'm super adverse to you taking me to the floor with you but Tim is right there and I don't want him to get jealous.” 

Jason's eyes narrow. Kon thinks he might have heard a hiss issuing from the other man as he retreats back a few steps. He's shaking a little bit; Kon probably would be too. The rush of fear and adrenaline can really mess you up even when the apparent danger has passed. 

“Why are you here?” Tim demands. 

“To go ghost hunting, duh. You told me so many cool things at dinner. But the driver refused to drop me off close to the door and I fell in the parking lot. Ugh, can you believe it? All over my new boots.” 

“Why would you wear suede in a thunderstorm? I know you're blonde but I didn't think you were that dumb,” Jason mutters. Steph glares at him, struggling out of her poncho. It's going to have to be trashed; the thing is torn and totally beyond saving. 

Constantine is watching the exchange with a kind of grin. Kon feels like he should try to play peacekeeper but he doesn't know what to say. “At this rate, Constance is never going to show up.” It's the first thing he can think of. 

Fortunately, the exorcist seems to agree with him, even if he turns his attention to Tim. “She is a shy one. Why don't you show me scenes of the other happenings and I'll see what readings I can get?” He adjusts his coat, looking to Jason. “Mr. Todd can stay here and try to talk her into helping out; she's fond of him.” 

Jason waves his arms around. “Right here!” 

“Ooh I wanna come with,” Stephanie insists, latching on to Tim's arm. “I'm not letting go this time! No pushing me out of the car at a mid-tier day spa and driving off without me!” 

“Not even remotely what happened,” Tim clarifies, even though two out of the other three people in the room have had more than a temptation to push Stephanie out of a moving car before. Blue eyes lift to Constantine. “Is it safe to bring her?” 

He nods. “As safe as it is to bring you. The demon-marked might cause some trouble with me getting a read which is also why I'm leaving him here.” He grins and looks at Jason. “Sorry, dear. Leaving you here.” 

“I'll stay here too,” Kon volunteers instantly. Like hell is he leaving anyone alone in this place. Part of him feels traitorous; Jason will be in what is probably the safest part of the school and Tim is his partner. But Tim will have an expert demon, ghost, and other creepy-crawly chaser with him. Plus Stephanie. If nothing else he could probably throw her in front of him and run the opposite direction. Not that he would, but the thought is entertaining. 

Tim looks a little reluctant and Kon is kind of thrilled to see that. It's obvious he wants to legitimately go ghost hunting, but he's also taking their feelings into account. He gives him a little shrug by way of acknowledging it's okay for him to leave. Jason nods after a moment as well. “We'll see if Constance will talk to us with you losers gone.” 

Stephanie is practically bouncing as they leave and Constantine looks after her with something fond in his expression. Kon stands at the door, watching them disappear down the hall. He jumps a little as Jason comes up behind him, resting a hand on his lower back. “Isn't not splitting your group up like rule one of horror movies?” he asks. “And didn't we just do that?” 

“Usually that's in the early stages of the movie,” Kon agrees. He turns to see the marker moving across the whiteboard. 

_You are safe here.  
_

It's the same thing she'd written to start off their previous conversation. Kon knows she's friendly, or at least as friendly as they come. He still shivers a little bit. But they have work to do. He moves to pull out a tube of blueprints from Tim's bag, unrolling the papers over one of the tables and weighing down the corner with books. 

“We need your help,” he tells her, looking in the direction of the floating marker. “I need you to show me where things are. Where is important?” 

Constantine, surely, will find something. But in case he doesn't, Kon wants some basis for where they should search. “What can we do?” Jason asks, easing over on the opposite side of the table. “What can we do to help you?” 

_Nothing. This is my fate. This is my fault.  
_

“Bullshit,” Jason retorts. “Sorry, lady. But I'm calling it. I know what it's like to be murdered and even kind of dead and you're not responsible for what happened. Someone _killed_ you. You're kind of removed from the chain of responsibility, there.” 

Is Jason giving therapy to a ghost? Tough love? Kon kind of wants to record it for Tim but he's still gaping. The marker floats toward him, hovering near the table, then goes back to the board. 

_I do not know this place.  
_

“Ah,” Kon says. “Because this is the school.” Interesting she doesn't know the place she haunts. He retrieves a transparent overlay of the asylum. It's probably newer than the one in place when she had died, but the footprint had been relatively the same. Kon positions it over the school blueprint. Some areas overlap. Others are completely amiss. “Is this better?” _  
_

Nothing happens. “Try asking her more specific questions,” Jason suggests. His voice drops, as though a quiet sound will prevent the ghost from overhearing. “She's been gone a long time, Kon. She's...addled. Confused.” _  
_

He can sympathize. “Where are you in this building?” he asks instead. “Where do you have power?” _  
_

The marker floats back to him. He steps out of the way while it hovers. It makes a dot over the library, which appears to be off the footprint of Arkham itself. Kon's about to scold himself for asking something so obvious when it moves again, scribbling out an area far on the grounds. _  
_

_I am there as well but have no power. Still, my Harriet is with me.  
_

Kon is struggling to remember that Harriet is her daughter. A little girl, brutally murdered, who had been loved by both her parents. She wasn't always the ghost that tried to kill him. That tried to keep Tim as a personal, aquatic plaything. 

“Where did you live?” Jason asks. “Where were your rooms?” 

The marker traces a relatively small area. It's offices on the plan of the asylum that Kon has. It's classrooms now. 

_My Amadeus did not stay there. They moved him away from us.  
_

“Where?” Kon feels a little like he can't breathe. He's never seen Constance, never seen a manifestation beyond this marker and these words, and yet her presence feels almost overwhelming. 

The mark outside of the library is darkened. The spot she is with Harriet. The cemetery, Kon realizes. Part of her is still there. Obviously the physical part, but perhaps a fragment of her spiritual self as well. 

“Where else?” Jason prompts. “Where did they move him?” 

The marker draws a long line across the whiteboard, nearly a slash. Then it drops. Kon thinks maybe they've made her angry; she's placed the markers down so nicely before. He turns away from the plans to look at Jason. 

His gaze doesn't find Jason first. It finds Harriet. She's outside the library, and that's possibly the only thing that keeps Kon from whimpering or drawing a gun on her. Her face is pressed against the glass doors, a child peeking in looking for her mother. 

Except that her face is contorted and sunken in. Her eyes are pure black and yet Kon knows she's staring at him. Especially when she smiles. She has too many teeth. Her lips stretch too wide. 

Jason grips his wrist hard enough to bruise and Kon knows he's seen her too. She lifts one dainty little hand, scratching down the glass to make it shriek. His hand finds Jason, but he's still gripping hard enough to hurt. And be hurt by Jason's answering grasp. The doors rattle, bowing in dangerously. 

“Shit,” Jason whispers. “Oh God.” And Kon feels really horrible for him but also kind of relived that Jason is just as terrified as he is. No shows of machismo here. They have no recourse. They have no protection. 

She disappears from the door. Kon doesn't even have a moment to feel relief before Harriet slams into the window next to him. She manages to get more force against it than she did the door, bumping into it hard enough that her head wobbles dangerously on her neck. He can see the flap of skin opening and closing. The white glint of spine is apparent in each flash of lightning. 

The sound of the marker on the whiteboard is barely heard over the pounding of Kon's heart. 

_HARRIET ARKHAM, GO TO YOUR ROOM! YOUR ROOM! HARRIET GO! ROOM ARKHAM TO!  
_

The same six words, repeated over and over. All over the board, so fast he can barely see it being written. The lights flicker again and Kon clutches Jason's hand all that much tighter, the brief thought playing through his head that at least they are going to die together and Tim won't have to watch. 

Harriet stalls. Her gaze fixates not on them but on the board. Kon swears he sees something like pain on her expression before she vanishes all together. 

He feels like he might faint. Like he might cry. The eraser lifts, wiping the board clean again save the first text she wrote. 

_You are safe here. I am tired.  
_

Kon isn't sure if that's a reassurance or a warning. Jason's voice is soft, like it's been ripped from his throat. “That's okay. We'll just stay a while...but can you show us Harriet's room?” 

There is the fainted dot made at the corner of what is now the gym. The marker settles back in the tray. Kon feels sick. He feels dizzy. He sinks to his knees and Jason comes with him. For a moment they kneel, knees touching, and Kon catches his breath. “Why?” he asks at last. “Why does she think we're fun?” 

“We're easy pickings,” Jason responds. “You actively didn’t believe when you got here and me? I attract strange shit wherever I go.” He sighs and leans into Kon. The man feels warmer than usual, but then again, he’s cold. “Look at us,” he continues. “We're over here all chicken shit and Tim is probably going to be so jealous when he finds out.” 

It's true. It's so true that Kon starts to laugh. He laughs harder than he means to because it's really, really not that funny. But it's still better than hysterical sobbing. He can hear Jason taking a few cleansing breaths, can feel the tension ease out of him a little and he privately marvels at how far Jason has come as a person since he first met him. 

“Back to business,” Jason says. “The sooner we figure out everything the sooner we can get out of here.”

Kon wishes the windows had shades to pull, not that he wants to get close to them ever again. Yet another thing to add to his growing list of creepy things to avoid. “I've reached the stage in this investigation where I want to go home, have a stiff drink, watch some kind of gross cheerful movie and sleep for about a week,” he admits. “At least that usually means it’s almost over.” 

“Usually,” Jason agrees. “I have board meetings on Monday and I'd rather not go to them straight off having a ghost try to cut my face off when some British exorcist uses me as bait. I tried to bum a cigarette off him earlier and the shit he smokes...he has to be some kind of supernatural creature because that shit will destroy your lungs with one drag.” 

That is a believable statement. Kon takes his time slowly getting to his feet, looking at the map still nearly on the table. He tries to focus on Constance's script. “Are you still around?” he asks, gazing into the nothingness. 

A nearby lamp rattles gently. Kon never thought he would be so reassured by a ghost. “Alright,” he says to Jason. “I think now is the part we let the professional take control and try to keep our skins, and Tim's, intact.” 

“Blondie's too,” Jason adds. “I mean, I guess. She did just have it mud-bathed and seaweed wrapped and all of that. It would be a shame to lose it.” 

Kon's feeling generous, so he'll throw in a wish for Stephanie's safety as well. Even if she used to be engaged to the guy he is sort of but maybe not perfectly in a relationship with. Even if she's crazy. Because, obviously, she's got to be insane to be in a ghost-infested school of her own free will. 

He stares at the blueprints of the school and the overlay of the old asylum. The marks Constance made that were outside the boundaries of both, it had to be at the cemetery. Biting his lip, Kon wonders about the classrooms. The Arkham house had been four stories high, massive for its time. He isn’t an architect by any means, but usually the personal rooms for a well to do family weren’t on the ground floor. 

So where did Amadeus perform the ritual? Was it on one of these long demolished upper levels or…Kon wants to smack his head as he remembers the story Tim told him on the way here. About how Amadeus was locked away in his own cell for treatment and carved the words of his ritual into the stone and wood with his fingers. 

“Constance, I know you’re tired, but please, one more question. Where did Amadeus bind _himself_ to this place?” 

The two men watch as the marker slowly rises and hovers over the map. A small dot appears, right over where the nurse’s office sits now. 

Jason lets out a low whistle. “Well, that explains what happened yesterday.” 

“And the day we arrived,” Kon adds. He looks up towards the whiteboard. “Thank you, Constance. We’re working on it. You’ll be resting soon.” 

She doesn’t reply, but the marker is capped again and set down neatly in the tray. 

“We need to go to the nurse’s office, don’t we?” Jason eventually says, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah,” Kon replies, putting away the overlay and rolling up the blueprints. He places them back in their case and tucks them into Tim’s bag. The end sticks out, but whatever. 

“Should we wait for the others to come back?” 

“I don’t want to, but we probably should,” Kon replies after a moment. “Constantine doesn’t want your mark to interfere…” He groans in frustration. 

Jason looks alarmed. “What?” 

“Your mark. We could have just had you take your shirt off when you know who was here. I didn’t even think about it.” Kon wants to smack himself. Jason’s mark had worked like a charm yesterday on Amadeus, so it stood to reason it would with his daughter as well. 

“Yeah, well, sign us both up for idiots of the year award,” Jason comes back with. “I didn’t either. Seriously, I just saw her face…she looked so different from what I saw the other day.” 

Kon shakes his head in disagreement. “That was pretty much what I saw come charging towards me.” He wants to forget. He wants to _not believe in ghosts_. His world was completely and utterly normal until he accepted that transfer and started working with Tim. 

So much for being the skeptic, but honestly, he’s pretty sure he’ll always be skeptical of some of the claims Tim makes. There is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The Loch Ness monster, if it was ever real, probably died a long time ago. He’s even willing to entertain the possibility of other intelligent life in the universe because it’s a damn big place, but he’s not buying into the story that aliens anal probe drunken hillbillies in the search for brains. 

Jason doesn’t say anything, but he does sling an arm over Kon’s broad shoulders and holds him for a moment. The simple gesture has come to mean so much over the last couple of days. More than that he's a good arm rest. “So what next?” he asks. 

Kon stares out the windows and into the gloom. It’s still raining, but the thunder and lightning have tapered off. “Well, if you aren’t allowed near the nurse’s office, then we get to go out into that and look for a cemetery.” 

Jason’s eyes follow and a familiar scowl appears on his face. “Fun.” 

*****

It was so tempting to simply open one of the library windows and crawl outside rather than face the hallways of the school, but Jason puts his foot down. “We’re not getting the books wet,” he informs Kon in no uncertain terms. “Publicly funded schools already have a hard enough time keeping a librarian, let alone books. I’ll take my shirt off if I have to.” 

Kon has no complaints with this. Even with the scars on his chest, Jason’s body is a work of art. “Just be ready,” is all he says though. 

They leave a note for Tim about where they are going on the whiteboard. Chances are good it’s the first place he’ll look when he returns and doesn’t find them and they wouldn't want him somehow determining they'd been eaten by ghosts. Kon just shrugs when Jason asks why he didn’t simply text him.   

The hallway is quiet outside the library, but Kon and Jason walk quickly towards the main entrance. Under the lights, it’s easy to see the path Stephanie had taken earlier. “When this is done, we should probably mop the floors,” Kon comments idly. 

“No point today,” Jason says and he can’t help but agree with him. 

Both men breathe a sigh of relief as they exit the building. Even with the rain still pouring around them, the atmosphere out here is less oppressive than in those hallowed halls of education. 

“I’ve got flashlights and some ponchos in my emergency kit. Come on.” Kon gestures and they race down the sidewalk, charging through puddles and not caring in the slightest over how wet they’re getting because the rain is still hard enough it won’t matter. 

Kon unlocks his SUV and opens the trunk. The raised door provides some protection against the rain, but not much. He’s just glad he remembered to pack his boots rather than sneakers. The heavy boots are better suited to the farm, but even if the rest of him is soaking wet, at least his feet and socks will be dry. Jason is wearing a heavier shoe too, definitely not sneakers either. He suspects they’re the motorcycle boots he’s seen him wear in the past. 

At least they won’t be slipping on damp leaves. Unless they're being dragged into a gateway to Hell. 

The kit is stored next to his spare tire and it takes all of a moment for him to take it out and remove the promised gear. Jason checks the flashlights while Kon puts on a poncho. It’s bright screaming yellow, hard to miss even in the rain. 

“Always be prepared?” Jason asks as he fights with getting his poncho over his head. 

“I made Eagle Scout,” Kon grins, knowing it’ll get a reaction. 

“Of course, you’re a fuckin’ Boy Scout,” the other man snarks back. “Why does that not surprise me?” 

“It runs in the family.” 

He closes the trunk with a solid _thunk_. The rain hits the poncho hard, the sound echoing oddly in the plastic confines. They start walking across the parking lot, heading in the direction he’d decided was the best location for the cemetery. Now that he’s back outside and can orient himself properly, Kon is more positive than ever that he’s right. 

“D’ya think this is just the Arkham family cemetery or the asylum cemetery too?” Jason asks once they hit the grass curb on the other side of the lot. There’s a space of about five, maybe six feet, of grass before it hits a hedge. Tall maples rise up behind the edge. The hedge itself is old too, if the thick growth is any indication. It’s going to be a bitch finding a way through it. 

“Maybe both?” Kon offers as he works out this part of the puzzle, turning on his light and flashing it up and down as he walks. “The Arkhams all died off with Amadeus, so there was nothing saying the asylum couldn’t use the existing grounds for patients who passed away here.” 

It soon becomes obvious they’re going to need clippers or a machete to fight their way through the hedge. Jason glares at it like it’s personally offending him. “I kinda wish I’d stayed in New York.” 

Kon takes the opening for what it is and asks a question he’s been meaning to ask but keeps getting distracted from. “Why did you come here?” he asks as they walk further down the lane leading onto the school grounds. “You already know you’re a magnet for the strange, so why put yourself up to this?” 

“I wanted to see if ghosts were real,” Jason says simply, like that was enough of a reason to do anything. 

He stops and stares back at the man. “You ditched your entire business trip just to see if ghosts were real? I’m sure your dad just loved that.” 

It’s hard to see in the rain, but he knows Jason is grinning unrepentantly under the hood of the poncho. “Nope.” 

They’re almost at the end of the drive when Kon hears a shout from behind them. Turning, they see Tim sprinting like mad across the parking lot and down the drive towards them. When he stops in front of them, the shorter man is soaking wet, black hair falling into his eyes as he stops to catch his breath. Kon knows it won’t take long; Tim’s a runner after all, at least when he can get the man on the track to get some cardio in. 

“What... _the hell_ …are you two…doing?” Tim gasps, raising his head to glare balefully at them. The effect isn’t lost even with his bangs dripping into his face. 

“We’re looking for the cemetery,” Kon replies. “It was either this, or stay in the library and watch Harriet press her face against the window and make faces at us.” 

The glare dampens slightly as an intrigued look replaces it. “She was there?” Tim asks in excitement. “Man, I can’t believe I missed that. She’s so much better than her creepy dad. He tried chasing Constantine around when we found the basement.” 

“Basement?” Kon starts to ask, but Jason holds up a hand. 

“Let’s move this under the trees some, yeah? Our boy doesn’t have a jacket or an umbrella.” 

It’s nice to see Kon isn’t going to be the only mother-hen in this relationship. They find a little bit more cover and, wordlessly, both raise the sides of their florescent ponchos over Tim’s head. It pays to be tall. 

Kon starts talking, because he knows Tim won’t tell his story until he hears what happened to them first. 

Tim gets all kinds of excited, bouncing up and down as his face lights up when he hears about the nurse’s office. “That’s fantastic! It confirms what Constantine thinks he found too.” 

“What did he find?” Kon asks. 

“A basement!” Tim replies, still sounding excited, even as he starts shivering. “In the administration office, there’s a door tucked away in one of the corners leading downstairs. From the looks of it, it’s just used for storage, files mostly, but as soon as we got down there, Amadeus appeared out of nowhere and started trying to slice us with that razor of his. It’s just like in the story!” 

Leave it to Tim to be over the moon about potentially getting stabbed by a razor-wielding ghost. A crazy ghost wearing his mom’s wedding dress at that. 

Jason smirks, obviously enjoying Tim’s enthusiasm. “What did Blondie think of it?” 

“She screamed so loud my ears are still ringing,” Tim replies with a little less excitement. “Constantine did _something_ that made him disappear _._ I couldn’t see what, since Steph was trying to use me as a human shield.” He sounds very put out by that, but Kon knows it’s more about missing whatever Constantine did than his best friend and former fiancée hiding behind him. 

“I take it she still wants to stay?” Kon says, already knowing the answer. 

“Of course, she does. She really has no sense of self-preservation.” 

Jason smacks the back of Tim’s head. “Look who’s talkin’.” 

“Anyways,” Tim continues, brushing Jason’s hand away from his head. “We found a small section in the back of the basement that was obviously older than the rest. After a little digging around, we found _a wall_.” He sounds positively ecstatic. 

“Oh, a wall. That’s great.” Kon shares a look with Jason. Their lack of enthusiasm would drive Tim nuts. 

His partner stomps his foot wetly in the grass. “Not just any wall, Kon! _The wall_. It’s one of the original walls from the asylum. It’s from Amadeus’ cell! The one he engraved his entire ritual on with his fingernails!” Tim’s about one spastic moment away from having a nerdgasm. Kon hopes it's not messy.

“Can Constantine read it?” Jason asks, trying to reel Tim in and back to the practical. 

“Maybe?” Tim replies. “We need to tear down some drywall and old plaster.” 

“I’m sure the school is going to love this.” Kon is already imagining the look on Director Lance’s face when she hears about it. 

“It’s for the kids,” Tim reminds him cheekily. 

In the end, Tim insists on coming with them to look for the cemetery. There’s an umbrella in the SUV, so Kon gives him the keys and they watch him streak back across the pavement. 

“He’s really fast,” Jason says, his eyes not leaving Tim. 

“Uh-huh,” Kon agrees. “He’s better at the short sprints; I usually manage to get him on the longer runs.” 

From the looks of it, Constantine and Stephanie are waiting outside, so Tim veers off to speak with them first. Kon seriously doubts they’ll want to wait in the library while the three of them wander around in the rain, even with the chance of meeting Constance or getting the crap scared out of them by Harriet. 

Eventually, the three of them make their way to the SUV and Kon grimaces as he watches them all pile inside. So much for dry seats. But rather than driving directly to them, Tim drives around the side of the school and out of sight. 

“Where the hell are they going?” 

“Beats me,” Jason replies, looking just as confused as he is. “Communication isn't a skill they taught Tim in FBI school, is it?” 

Whatever. Standing here isn’t going to do any good, so Kon starts walking along the hedge once again, looking for a potential gap to exploit. 

“I wish I had a larger knife on me,” Jason idly comments, eyeing the hedge. He shakes one of the thick limbs. “We could hack our way through this.” 

It doesn’t surprise him at all that the other man is armed in some way. Of course, Jason’s idea of a small knife is one that fits in his boot rather than in his pocket. 

“Yeah, well, we’re not in a fairy tale.” 

“Nope. We’re in a fucking horror novel.” 

They’re almost to the road when they hear a horn honk behind them. Tim has parked the SUV on the verge, half on the grass and half on the driveway leading into the school. He gets out, still not bothering with an umbrella even though he has put a jacket on at this point, and goes to the trunk. 

Constantine and Stephanie pile out, the exorcist looking none too pleased to be in the rain. Stephanie still has on her torn poncho, which is better than nothing. It's not like there was any keeping her dry or saving her outfit after her intimate embrace with a puddle on the way in. 

The blonde rushes towards them. “Tim remembered there was a maintenance shed around the back of the school. He found some hedge clippers!” 

“Fantastic.” But at least they weren't permanently abandoned. 

Jason takes a turn with the clippers first, having proven rather deft with the bolt cutters yesterday. But the hedge is thick and dense, so Kon soon takes a turn. Constantine stands back under the shelter of the trunk lid and offers not so helpful commentary. It takes about twenty minutes before the hole is large enough for them to slip through. 

Tim immediately takes charge, plowing through the opening with his flashlight on, still not bothering with an umbrella. As he passes Kon, he takes a moment to flip the hood of Tim’s jacket up over his head. Not that it’ll do much good at this point, but A for effort. And for not actively helping your partner catch pneumonia. 

It’s like a different world on the other side of the hedge. Ancient trees rise up around them, many still laden with colored leaves that have yet to turn the dusky brown of their counterparts scattered along the ground. The rain isn’t as heavy here, but the sound of it striking the canopy above them echoes all around. 

Kon would like it a lot better if the sun were out, but hey, it still beats the alternative. 

Tim veers off to the left, heading into the woods and back towards the school. Constantine is hot on his heels, his eyes intent as he follows. 

“Kinda reminds me of a bloodhound,” Kon mutters to Jason, who nods in agreement. 

“This probably won’t sound weird, but I get it. There’s… _something_ …over that way.” Jason gestures in the direction the two men are heading in. 

“Then get a move on,” Stephanie says as she charges past them. “Cemeteries in the rain are cool.” 

“Since when?” Kon rolls his eyes as he and Jason follow. It’s amusing how he seems to be getting paired up with him more and more on this case. 

“It’s called _atmosphere_ ,” she calls back over her shoulder. “Get in the mood!” 

“I can think of a different mood I’d rather be getting into,” Kon says quietly. 

Jason smirks and brushes his hand against his. “Me too.” 

Up ahead, Constantine is pointing Tim down a faint path leading off to their right and further into the woods. As they walk along it, Jason nods faintly, peering left and right, and even behind them once. “This feels right,” is all he says when Kon inquires. “Don’t ask me how, but it is.” 

Very soon, an ancient wrought iron fence appears, enveloping a small open area. Weather-worn gravestones pockmark the ground, some simple memorials to those who have passed while others were once much more ornate pieces of angelic sculpture. 

Kon looks around as they cross beneath the old arch. It’s still raining, but not as hard as it was before. If anything, the sky is slightly lighter than he remembers, although that could just be the difference from being under the trees. Cemeteries are naturally depressing places, but this overgrown and decrepit place is downright _sad_. 

“And Jesus wept,” Jason says softly, looking at an older statue of Christ kneeling over a grave. In the rain, it looks like actual tears are spilling forth from the empty eyes. 

“Where do we even start?” Stephanie asks, looking around. While the main part of her poncho is ripped, the hood isn’t. From behind, she kind of reminds Kon of a purple grape. 

“Over there,” Constantine and Jason say and point at the same time. Jason looks away from the blonde exorcist’s assessing gaze. 

Tim creeps up next to him and carefully clasps his arm. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he tries, but Jason cuts him off. 

“It is when you do shit and not realize you’re even doing in the first place.” 

Kon wants to step in, but he doesn’t. Sometimes Tim needs to be reminded that not everyone wants the same life he’s always dreamed of. It sucks because if Tim could, he’d totally take that burden from Jason. Just as he’d do whatever it takes to keep him safe. Protecting people is why he joined the FBI in the first place. 

Jason brushes off Tim and trails after Constantine. The exorcist has somehow commandeered Kon’s umbrella, which he opens up and holds between him and Jason as they walk, neither quite covered by it. 

Tim’s face crumbles a bit and Stephanie lays a reassuring hand on his arm. “Just leave him be, honey,” she says. “He’ll get over it soon enough.” 

“But…” 

Kon slings an arm over Tim’s shoulder and starts dragging him along. “He’ll be fine, dude. Jason could have bailed at any time before this, but he’s still here, helping you.” 

“Helping _us_ ,” Tim corrects him. “He’s not just focused on me.” There’s a hint of _something_ in his voice that has Kon glancing over at him. There’s a pensive cast to Tim’s features, one that disappears when he looks up and sees Kon eyeing him. “I’m okay with that,” he says reassuringly. “It’s kinda nice to know someone else has your back too, you know?” 

The playful shove from Kon almost has Tim falling on his ass in the wet grass. “You’re the one who needs a handler. Always charging off on some hair-brained wild goose chase.” 

Tim grins unrepentantly as he straightens and resumes walking. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

“Yeah, I know. I really should get my head checked.” 

Up ahead, Constantine and Jason have stopped in front of three small headstones, barely visible over the tall grasses that have crept over everything. It’s a solemn group that comes to stand before the stones. 

“Well, here they are,” the exorcist says, handing the umbrella to Jason. He digs a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, takes one out, and lights it in one smooth, practiced gesture. Kon wrinkles his nose at the scent and tries to stand more up-wind of the man. 

One of the stones is slightly larger than the other. Heedless of the wet grass, Tim kneels in front of it and gently brushes away moss and other debris. “This one is Constance’s grave.” 

Stephanie does the same with the marker next to it. “This one is Amadeus.” 

It’s obvious whose the third is, but Tim carefully cleans it off too. “And here’s Harriet.” 

Kon stares at the three headstones, feeling unsettled. He knows he’s not the most religious of people, but when you die, this is supposed to be it. The end. Done. The soul goes on to wherever you believe it goes. Heaven. Hell. Nirvana. Reincarnation. The dead do not come back to life. It goes against everything he’s ever learned or even believed. 

Until the man standing next to him came into his life. Until he came here and somehow attracted a little girl’s restless spirit.

He shoves those thoughts aside. This is an investigation just like any other. There’s a methodology to be followed, steps to be taken to solve it. “What now?” Kon asks. 

Constantine blows smoke into the air and watches it fade. The sound of rain smattering on the umbrella and raingear is loud in the otherwise silent graveyard. “I need to go back to the school to check something, but I’m pretty sure you strapping young fellows will be doing some digging here soon.” 

“Say what?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everyone! We're taking a break next week to enjoy some well deserved time off (and for chibinightowl to get off her butt and write the exorcism (which will totally happen as soon as I'm done with the last chapter of Masquerade)), so look for chapter 9 after the New Year!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! Hope everyone had a safe and happy New Year.

“This is _not_ how I thought I’d be spending my afternoon,” Kon grumbles as he tosses another shovel full of dirt over his shoulder and onto the steadily rising pile behind him. He’s a few feet down now, his boots squelching in the soil. Tim and Stephanie had erected some hastily tossed together tarps to shelter the three graves from the rain, but it was still trickling in.

From the hole next to him, he hears Jason growl in agreement.

“How did you think you’d be spending it?” Tim asks. He’s seated on the edge of the open grave, his legs dangling over the edge, and looking a bit out of breath from his most recent turn with the shovel.

“I dunno,” Kon replies. “Robbing a fucking a _grave_ was pretty low on my list of options.”

“We’re not robbing the graves,” Tim says in that reasonable tone of his that makes Kon wants to punch him because it never bodes well for him. “Everything will be put back tomorrow.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jason calls out.

“Don’t worry, Jay, I’ll make sure you’re not put back by mistake.”

Kon looks up in time to see Jason stand upright and glare balefully at Tim. His little shit of a partner is grinning maniacally.

Jason hauls himself out of the hole and rips his gloves off, pointedly throwing them at Tim. “Just remember I’m the best looking zombie your smartass will ever see.”

“I have no complaints,” Tim replies, picking up the gloves and throwing them back. The three men are taking turns digging up the graves, but Kon can’t help but notice he’s been working for longer than either of them on his. But then again, he’s used to a pick-axe and spade from all the years he helped work the farm.

“Seriously dudes, can we just get this done with?” Kon asks, pointedly tossing dirt next to Tim this time rather than in his pile. His partner doesn’t even flinch.

“You sound like a fucking surfer,” Jason snarks as he goes to the small cooler to grab some water.

“I lived in Hawaii until I was 10. Sue me.”

Jason eyes him curiously. “How’d you end up in Kansas then?”

Kon is saved from a long story by Constantine and Steph reappearing in the cemetery. They’d taken his SUV after lunch to pick up _supplies_ the exorcist said would be needed for tomorrow.

For the exorcism.

Because that’s why they were digging up these graves. They need something personal from each Arkham to ensure this works. Kon’s not all up to date on exorcism lore, but it kind of makes sense after Constantine explained it to them earlier. Something about how Amadeus bungled his ritual and rather than confining the bat spirit he thought was haunting his family, he bound his wife and daughter’s souls instead, and, later on, his own after his death. The goal is to bind their souls to something from their graves instead of the walls of the school and rebury everything.

Tim’s looking forward to performing last rites over each grave. Jason was teasing him earlier that being an ordained Jedi minister didn’t count.

“Wowza,” Stephanie says as she jogs ahead of Constantine. “Damn, there are some fine looking muscles on display here.” She eyes Jason and Kon appreciatively. They’ve both stripped down to their (formerly white) undershirts. It's not so much an issue of over-heating as it is that layers of clothes just get in the way and start to chafe with repetitive motion.

Tim gives her a hopeful look, but she pats his head consolingly. “Sorry hon, compared to these two, you need some work.”

His partner glowers. “Meanie,” is all he says and picks up his shovel, jumping back down into Harriet’s grave to start digging again with renewed gusto.

Kon doesn’t miss how Constantine is eyeing him and Jason too. Is anybody here straight besides Steph? Although, now that he thinks about it, it would not surprise him in the slightest if she’s got a girlfriend tucked away somewhere that he doesn’t know about. It’s not like he knows everything about her (like he didn’t know about her and Tim’s previous _engagement_ ).

“Did you find everything?” Kon asks neutrally.

The man shrugs as he lights yet another cigarette. “Mostly. The rest depends on what kind of goodies we find here.”

“So keep digging, guys,” Steph chimes in. “Let’s see those muscles on display!”

“We’re not Chippendales,” Jason grouses as he jumps back into Amadeus’s grave.

“No, but I have twenty bucks here that says one of you will be shirtless before this is over.”

It takes the better part of another hour before Kon feels something different under his shovel. He changes his grip and scrapes the damp earth to the side. A dark, damp looking panel of wood appears. “Forgive me, Constance,” he whispers and keeps digging around what Constantine said should be where the top of the coffin rests.

“I’m in,” Jason announces a few minutes later.

Grumbles echo up from where Tim is digging out Harriet’s grave. “You suck!”

“I’ve never had any complaints,” Jason replies. Kon can just imagine the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’m done too,” he says instead, which prompts another shout from his partner.

“You suck too!”

“Come on, Tim! You’ve got maybe a foot to go,” Steph says encouragingly.

A shadow appears over the edge of the hole Kon is standing in as Constantine looks down at him. “Looks like you’re further along, mate. Let’s see what the nice lady can give us, shall we?”

Kon heaves a huge sigh. He does not want to do this. Digging a hole in the ground is one thing, but desecrating a grave is another. “I’ll need an axe. I don’t see a joint or seam over the lid like a modern casket has.”

As Constantine hands the axe to him, Kon notices the air around him getting colder. Very cold. Cold enough that it makes his sweat dampened body shiver and his breath visible. He knows this cold.

He _hates_ this cold.

Kon is up and out of the grave before anything else has a chance of happening. He refuses to get any closer to Harriet than he absolutely has to.

“What is it?” Stephanie asks, but Constantine raises a hand.

“We’ve got a visitor,” he says calmly. He points to the headstone.

Kon doesn’t want to look. He really doesn’t, but he can’t stop his body from turning around and staring.

Harriet is standing on the narrow strip of grass between her mother’s gravestone and the gaping maw of torn earth that Kon has spent the better part of three hours digging. This close, he can make out the details on her dress, the little rosettes and leaves he remembers from the other day. She has the most angelic golden curls framing her delicate little face.

But her eyes are still that solid pool of darkness that belie her pure exterior.

Next to him, Stephanie’s breath catches. “Oh my god,” she breathes. “She’s so young.”

Kon is barely aware of Jason and Tim climbing out of the graves on either side of his.

“Hello there, poppet,” Constantine says, looking completely unperturbed by Harriet’s appearance. “You’re a bit far from your resting place, aren’t you?”

The little ghost’s eyes narrow and her rosebud mouth twists as she says something no one is able to hear.

“That’s not very nice,” Tim says and _waves a fucking finger at her_. Kon wants to smack him. Hard. It's not like this little ghost girl is a puppy. “You’ve been spending too much time around teenagers recently, haven’t you?”

“What did she say?” Jason asks.

“Leave us the fuck alone,” Tim replies.

Constantine kneels at the foot of the grave, the long open trench between him and the ghost. “We’re only trying to help, luv. You, your mum. Your da. By this time tomorrow, chances are good you’ll be resting peacefully at last.”

Harriet’s eyes blaze and her mouth opens again, a stream of what must be some rather scathing invectives thrown at them if Tim’s wide-eyed expression is anything to go by.

The exorcist simply shakes his head and clucks his tongue at her. “Now what would your mum say if she heard you sayin’ all that?”

Little hands clench tightly into fists, but she stops.

“Other than the cold and a rather strong sense of self, this little poppet is powerless here,” Constantine announces and slowly stands. “Time to get back to work.”

Kon shakes his head, not taking his eyes off Harriet, even if she does look more like a doll at this point than anything else. “I am not going back down there.”

“She can’t do anything,” Constantine tries, but Kon stands his ground.

“Nope. She slimed me once, she is not getting a second chance.”

“I'll do it. I babysit all the time,” Steph declares. “How much different could this be?” She's already edging forward, eyeing the drop into the grave. She sits nearby instead, crossing her legs. “Hey, girlfriend. Why are you acting up?”

Tim groans a little bit. Kon stares in morbid fascination. “Steph, she was born like a hundred years ago. I don't think you can paint her nails and play Twister with her.”

“She'd kick your ass at Twister anyway. She can probably detach her limbs,” Jason mutters. Kon elbows him, but he does so gently because the joke is kind of funny. Really funny. Still, he doesn't want to antagonize Harriet despite Constantine saying she has no power here. She’ll remember it for later when he’s closer to the school. How far is a safe distance?

Stephanie seems totally unperturbed by the commentary. She's unstoppable. “I know it looks bad but we're really here to help. And we'll return everything and have it all reburied by the end of tomorrow. Does that suit you?”

Harriet's mouth moves into something that is clearly a hiss. Even her curls vibrate a little bit with the motion.

“Think that qualifies as a no,” Constantine drawls. Kon's not sure if he should be proud or concerned that the exorcist has joined the peanut gallery. He's thinking that the blonde woman did have the right idea about human shields and he is entirely game for making the British man exactly that if it comes down to it.

Actually, maybe he should strip Jason down. That sounds like a much better idea. He has more faith in Jason’s mark than Constantine at the moment.

There's a dramatic noise from Stephanie's lips as she scoots over toward Harriet's grave. She nearly falls into Amadeus's, and Kon isn't sure the old coffin could take her weight completely falling in it so he relaxes more when she's well away from it. “Your name is so pretty,” Stephanie compliments. “Do you want to come over here and spell it out for me?”

Harriet actually does follow her, but it's only to make her head flop backwards. She's showing Stephanie what she'd shown Kon the first time; her neck had been sawed almost all the way through. Stephanie gives a sharp, surprised yip, trying to move back. Tim leans forward eagerly, using Stephanie as a brace. Kon's gaze has drifted skyward as he silently asks the powers that be why he is here. Constantine? He lights a cigarette. Jason seems like he wants to join him.

The little ghost girl silently cackles and Tim frowns. “Hey, just because she dresses like that doesn't make her a tart. Women in the modern times are allowed to wear pants.”

Apparently, Harriet agrees, because her expression smooths over a little bit and she reattaches her head to her neck.

“I bet we could cover that with a ribbon or something,” Stephanie suggests. “Maybe a choker.”

“There's a story about that,” Jason adds. “A bride tells her husband he must never take off the ribbon around her neck or something and it turns out it's because she's been decapitated?”

Tim is drifting around. He eyes Constance's grave and then starts to lift the axe. Kon sighs. Clearly, he's going to have to do this. He doesn't trust his partner anywhere near a sharp implement he has to swing with any real force.

“I'll do it,” Jason tells him quietly as Stephanie continues chatting to Harriet who is either utterly fascinated by her or plotting a bloody revenge, judging by the expression on her face. “If she comes back for you she's got you cornered down there.”

“It won't bother you? You know? With your history?” Kon really, really doesn't want to go back in that grave with Harriet on the loose but if it comes down between himself, Tim, or Jason he knows he's going to have to do it.

Jason shakes his head. “You know what the best part of amnesia is? You don't actually remember the terrible shit that happened.” He takes the axe out of Tim's hands, listening to him sigh and seeing the pout nearly instantly begin on his lips. His lips which are kind of losing their color. They probably need to get him somewhere warm without waiting too much longer.

The broader man slides into the grave with a kind of ease that makes Kon wary. He can at least bear witness to this, even if he grimaces at the first crack of metal on the wood of the coffin. They should have done Amadeus first. That bastard at least deserved this treatment.

The noise draws Harriet's attention because of course it does. A chill washes over all of them, but Kon can't feel it sinking into his bones like last time. By comparison, it’s a breeze, like the weather changed, instead of as though he might never see sunshine again. Jason ignores her all together, cracking the coffin open. He's clearly trying to make everything as clean as possible but given the rain, the mud, and the ancient coffin it's pretty much impossible.

The lid takes a little more prying, as well as Kon and Constantine dragging the jagged pieces of it out. Harriet firmly shoves her face against Jason's, shrieking soundlessly and waving her arms when all it does is make her dissolve. It's...kind of cute. Kind of sad. Kind of absolutely terrifying and Kon doesn't want to look at her any longer but also really doesn't want her to sneak up on him either.

“Uhm,” Jason says. “We may have a problem because we have too many skulls in this grave. Unless Constance had two heads?”

That gets all of them looking into the grave. Harriet is there, curled at Jason's feet like a cat. Not a cat, Kon thinks after a moment's study, like a child. She wraps herself around the skeleton in the coffin. She rests her head near the dainty cameo at the throat that is shining even after all these years. “This is her mother,” Kon says quietly, almost desperately. Tim shoots him a look because of course they know Constance is her mother. But Kon can't help feeling terrible for her.

Stephanie, at least, seems to get it. She nudges against him and under his arm. Of course, it might be a ploy to steal his body heat but Kon appreciates it all the same. They can leave the corpse-examining to the experts.

“Is this you, little poppet?” Constantine asks Harriet. “Is that why you're over here with your mum instead of on your own?”

She hides her face in the pile of fabric that Kon's pretty sure is comprised of decaying coffin lining and what was no doubt the very lovely dress Constance was buried in.

“Wait,” Tim says. “If Harriet is buried here with Constance then what's in Harriet's grave?”

Jason looks appraisingly at the scene at his feet. “My guess is they buried an empty box. I don't think this kind of thing was done normally. But maybe Amadeus couldn't stand them being alone.”

They let that sink in a moment before Tim makes a disgusted sound. “I dug all that way for nothing? Hours of backbreaking work and there was absolutely no reason for it?”

“You got your cardio in,” Kon offers. “And we didn't know where was no reason for it.”

“Ugh!” Tim throwing his hands in the air is vaguely reminiscent of Harriet. Of course, his partner would absorb her tantrum habits. He turns to stomp away, no doubt to try to calm himself down. Except the stomp is too hard, and too close to Amadeus's grave. The dirt caves in and Tim barely has time for a scream as he goes sliding into the grave. The noise he makes is a little terrifying, but there's no cracking so Kon silently prays the lid held as he and Stephanie rush over and Jason yells to know what's happening.

Kon extends his hands after making sure his footing is stable. “Are you okay?” Stephanie asks, but Tim is on his feet and looking even more pissed off than usual so that's probably a good sign.

It takes a couple of tries, and Stephanie's help, to get Tim up. “Landed on my knees,” he says. “It's going to bruise so much.”

“Yeah that's going to hurt like a son of a bitch,” Jason calls from Constance's grave. “And not to steal your attention or anything because I am entirely willing to kiss your knees better but what am I doing down here?”

“Taking the skulls,” Constantine replies. “They're old enough that a good lift and twist should do the job. You could use the axe otherwise.”

It's been building a bit all day but Kon has finally reached the tipping point. “I don't want to see this,” he says to Tim. His partner is the most likely to understand. The most likely to not tease him or think he's weak or anything else. They've been through a lot together and Kon isn't sure why this in particular is hitting so hard, but he knows it is. He lectures Tim constantly about finding and respecting his limits. It's time for him to practice what he preaches.

Tim doesn't question the fine line he's drawn between digging up a woman's body and decapitating it. Kon even knows it's for the greater good and that Constance doesn't care. Resting in peace is more important for her. It still doesn't help with the imagery playing through his mind. There are only grainy, ancient photos of her that he's seen and yet he feels like he knows her the most of all of them. Maybe because she's the only _friendly_ one left. Amadeus is fucking crazy and Harriet scares the shit out of him.

“My knees are already killing me. Sit with me?” Tim offers. There's a pile of boulders nearby that he tips his head toward, sheltered by heavy tree branches.

It's...actually kind of touching. Kon knows how much this means to him. He knows how badly he wants to watch every step just in case he has to do it himself one day. And he's willing to step aside to comfort Kon.

It urges Kon forward, for a brief brush of his lips against Tim's. The man really is freezing. “Stay,” he tells him before he loses his nerve. “Just let me know when you're done.”

He can hear Stephanie giving instructions on how to remove the heads as he trudges away. She knows her anatomy and doesn't seem at all troubled by what they're doing. Apparently, he's the only weak link. Fine. He can deal with that.

Kon sits on one of the rocks under the tree like either of those will help his mud-covered state. He doesn't want to watch the scene unfold before him but there's precious little else to look at. The place is desolate and depressing. Forgotten by the world as much as the people who rest here. Or don't rest, accordingly.

Jason lets out a whoop which must mean he successfully retrieved a head. Constantine has a bag out and does he have luggage specifically for heads? Kon contemplates asking him about that later, but he turns before he can see the skull actually go into anything. He'll be introduced to it soon enough.

“Quit it, Harriet!” Tim scolds like she's a living child. Kon can barely make out her features at all as she spins between the graves, kicking up as much dirt and leaves as she can. It's not much at all; she really doesn't have any power here.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Jason crawls out of the grave and rips off his muddy undershirt.

Harriet’s eyes widen in fear and she vanishes, taking her little cyclone and no doubt the cold of the grave with her.

Jason grins as he retrieves the axe from the grave. “Where’s my twenty bucks, Blondie?”

*****

They split up to shower and agree to regroup at dinner. Unfortunately, that means there are three showers among five people and Constantine doesn't seem intent to share. As many jokes as they make about conserving water and showering at the same time, the amount of mud makes that an impossibility unless they totally want to ruin the plumbing and overflow the bathrooms. Tim offers to hose them off in the parking lot but the logistics of making that happen seem far more daunting than just dealing with a shitty hot water heater and an actual shower.

Tim and Stephanie go first. Stephanie because she's a woman newly from a day spa and Tim because he's stopped shivering and progressed to simply being the color of chalk and twitching occasionally, even with the heater on full blast. He sits between Jason and Blondie on the ride back to the motel and Kon says nothing as he sees Jason fluff himself up as much as possible like a chicken trying to sit on an egg. 

Mother hen indeed. 

"Get some hot water from the coffee pot and pour it down the drain after you're done to help keep the mud from sticking," Kon advises as he takes charge of Tim when they arrive. That leaves Jason letting Stephanie shower in his room, but there are rules about sensitive FBI equipment and information and people being left unattended around it. Even if it would be Stephanie. This is weird enough without them getting professionally disciplined and, as much as he likes his partner's best friend, she does have a huge mouth on her. 

He puts as much water as possible in the coffee pot to heat and starts the work of stripping Tim. Tim's skin is icy and clammy and Kon knows he'll be sending him for some warm drinks after this. He's not taking him; even a cold shower will be better than being covered in a layer of dirt from a grave.

"Can you finish?" he asks Tim once he has him naked and standing in the tub with the worst of the mud scraped off and the water blasting against his back. 

"I don't know," Tim replies weakly. He glances down. To his groin, Kon realizes as soon as he follows his gaze and is staring at Tim's crotch too. "I have a little performance anxiety and it's a little cold." He grins cheekily and Kon gives in to the urge he's had all day and slaps him. Or spanks him. Sharply, right across the ass, and Tim lets out an embarrassing squeaking noise and pulls the curtain between them.

Smugly satisfied, Kon returns to the bedroom. He takes off his clothes in the tiled area around the sink and kicks them to the corner to deal with later. He wonders if this motel has laundry facilities. Probably not for guests but maybe they'll take pity and point him toward a laundromat. There's not much room for thought beyond getting clean and getting warm. Nothing to dwell on as to how Jason looked shirtless and muddy or with fabric clinging to his muscles. Nothing about how Tim's ass is actually really fun to smack. 

It isn't long before Tim shuffles out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around him like a dress. He grips the handle of the room-provided coffee maker with distaste and takes it back to dump down the shower drain to help clear out some of the mud. 

"Just do that forty times and I could have a warm bath," Kon jokes. That's so tempting, though. He's filled out his reports for the day and he wants to thaw out and stop feeling dirt in his hair. Maybe a lukewarm bath…yeah…

Tim looks at him and wanders over, pressing his face against Kon's bare chest. "Coffee," he whispers pitifully. "I'm crashing hard right now." 

"Well, you skipped lunch other than eating your weight in Sour Patch Kids with Jason, so I'm not surprised." He should have brought Cheerios in a spill-proof cup. "There's a coffee place next door or I could plug in your snobby coffeemaker if you-" 

Tim tilts his face to look up at him, putting one finger against his lips. Kon wants to suck it into his mouth. He wants to bite it. He's a little conflicted by these alternating desires. "Shower," he says firmly. "I can do the thing where the coffee is in the mouth." 

"Your mouth?" Kon suggests with a little grin. Tim's eyes narrow but he makes a vague acknowledging noise as he goes to set up his fancy and portable coffeemaker. He sees him drop the towel completely as he shuts the door to the bathroom. 

~*~*~

The shower isn't any place he wants to linger, but he's forced to due to the sheer amount of mud coating him. A few times, he has to clear out the drain and start the process over again. But, at last as the water reaches nearly frigid temperatures, he's clean.

The room is empty when he emerges, but he had taken nearly half an hour, even with periodic trips for hot water to pour down the drain. There isn't much else to do but get dressed and go in search of the others. The restaurant and bar combo attached to the motel is the only place anyone can really get to in the rain and without a car. When he leaves the room, he spots both vehicles still in the parking lot. 

He enters on the far side of the bar, which isn't busy yet this time of night. He knows from his experiences with Jason that he's behind a fish tank that's so reflective you can't see to the other side of it. It's a little disorienting and he wonders how the fish don't go absolutely insane. Maybe it's different on the inside. 

It's Stephanie he locates first, due to the peeling laughter. They must be sitting at the bar as they wait, close to the fish tank dividing the place. "Jason offered to give me his room, Tim. You know what that means. He thinks he'll be spending the night in someone else's bed." 

"Maybe he was just trying to be chivalrous," Tim retorts. "Or maybe you ruined it so badly that giving it to you is his attempt to burn the evidence. I've seen showers after you move on. If the balls of hair don't get you then an avalanche of shampoo will." 

Kon pauses. It's apparently just Tim and Stephanie there. He doesn't want to eavesdrop. That's rude. But so is interrupting a private conversation, right? 

"I think you're overdue for an all-boys slumber party," Stephanie adds. There's a slurping noise and he really hopes that she hasn't gotten a Siren's Song for Jason to yell about later. "You see all that beef on display today? I want to just sink my teeth into it." 

Tim huffs. It's the noise he makes when he's annoyed but also seriously thinking about something. "You know what happens, Steph. Terrible things happen when I get close to people. Worse things happen when I sleep with them."

Kon swears he can physically hear Stephanie's eyes roll back into her head.  "You're being ridiculous, Tim. So you banged me once and I almost got car bombed and went into your personal witness protection. And the thing with Jason was...okay that really sucked but it's not like anyone could have known that would happen."

Jason? Kon frowns heavily. Had Jason and Tim slept together? When? He doesn't remember it (he would have backed off if he did) and his unexpected new boyfriend certainly seems as puzzled by Tim as he himself is. Surely that's not all on act. Jason is a smart ass but he's not really much of a liar. At least not about things like that. 

"That girl in high school got the mumps," Tim laments. 

"She should have been vaccinated," Stephanie counters. "That guy in the club shouldn't have worn heels he couldn't walk in. You didn't mean to roofie that other guy and honestly he deserved it since he tried to do it to you in the first place..."

Kon's never really talked to Tim about their romantic lives. Passing things, little bits of information that help round a person out but it's not as though they've ever sat down and told dating stories. It's always been a little strange between them, possibly because they both know it will lead to a question on how and if they would date.

"You need to go for it and let the chips fall where they may," Stephanie says. "But I mean. If you change your mind?" Is she singing? "I'm the first in line."

It gets a snort of amusement from Tim. "This is hardly the time or the situation for ABBA, Steph." 

"There is always time for ABBA. Oh, hey, there's Constantine!" 

That's probably his cue. He turns around, nearly slamming into Jason's chest.   
It's only years of training that keep him from screaming. Jason simply looks at him and quirks an eyebrow, a smirk on his face that tells Kon he knows exactly what he was doing. Jason turns him around the proper direction to join the others, leaning down to have his mouth against Kon's ear. "That wasn't something nice boys do, you know. You aiming to get spanked?"

He thinks of Tim in the shower and shivers. Damn Jason Wayne. Jason laughs, pressing a kiss to the arch of his cheekbone and patting the seat of his jeans before straightening again as they join the others. "Well, well, the gang's all here." 

"Feed me," Tim says instantly, almost falling off the bar stool as he leans back. Stephanie's gaze links with Kon's, as it always does when Tim's behavior changes drastically in the presence of his partner. Master of disguise. Master of social confusion and chaos. 

"I'll feed you my di-" 

"Jason!" Stephanie cuts off with a look at Constantine and, belatedly, at the waitress coming to ask if they are ready to be seated now. 

"Don't worry about my delicate sensibilities, love," Constantine informs her as he slings an arm around her waist. "Now that I'm dry and not covered in muck, I doubt much could bring me down." 

Kon brings up the rear as the waitress counts them and recounts, probably wondering how their numbers keep growing and if she should be at all concerned. "Look how radiant my skin is though," Stephanie says, pushing up her sleeves to model her bare arms. "And my face is so soft with all that mud." 

"Grave mud or spa mud?" Tim asks. "Because I bet we could have a lucrative side business with the grave mud." 

"I bet it's not even different things," Jason says. "Someone orders a mud bath in a spa and they just go dig in the yard and remove the worms." 

"Grave dirt is different. It's holy or something," Tim replies. "Right Constantine?"

The waitress looks like she wants to be anywhere but there. She punishes them by leading them to one of the giant booths that supposedly seats up to seven. Constantine and Stephanie take a side. Jason slides in first, pulling Tim with him when he hesitates and leaving Kon to slide in next to his partner.

"You need a booster seat to sit with the big boys, Timmy?" Stephanie asks with a smirk. Kon gives yet more mental points to Constantine for simply ignoring all of this. Although, there’s no doubt he's absorbing every detail to mock in horror later. 

"Grave dirt has special properties," Constantine agrees and Kon tunes out for a while. It's not that it isn't interesting (and he knows he'll hear exactly how interesting from Tim over and over again) but he just wants to rest his brain. 

 _Tomorrow,_ he thinks. _Tomorrow it will be over._ Then he mentally crosses himself even if he doesn't believe in that stuff and clarifies that tomorrow this assignment will be over. All of them are safe and well and will continue on with their lives. Just as soon as they perform an exorcism with a bag of skulls. Right. 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Stephanie does end up taking Jason's room for lack of any more available in the motel. Kon's not sure how the place filled up, except it probably has something to do with the storm. He offered to room with Jason and let Stephanie room with Tim but, of course, she simply suggests Jason crash with Kon and Tim and so that's what they do. No one misses the pointed look she gives Tim when she toddles off with Jason’s room key.

Kon would be a liar if he said he wasn't nervous. But a glance at Tim shows his partner is the same; he’s run the same anti-virus on his laptop at least four cycles without it finding anything.  

The room is decently sized but it's not big enough for them all to have their own space for the work each person is trying to do. They run into each other changing clothes and brushing their teeth. Jason basically straddles Kon to get to the outlet plug above the desk so he can plug his own laptop in, and they are sitting with Jason's elbow on his thigh for him to actually use the device. Tim is skirting them both, worrying his lower lip and looking like they might bite him. 

Something’s got his partner spooked and he can’t help but wonder if it has to do with that conversation he overheard earlier. What happened between him and Jason? And why doesn’t Jason remember? Kon knows the man has some amnesia from his experience (extreme trauma will do that) but surely he’d remember if he’d managed to get with Tim. 

But at the same time, if he doesn’t, it would explain some of the rather pained looks he’s caught Tim shooting at Jason over the last couple days. 

It’s enough to make his brain hurt. 

For now though, they’ll have to lead by example if anyone is getting some action tonight. The three of them are in the same room, dammit. It’s been a long day and at the very least, Kon wants to cash in that raincheck if Jason’s still willing. 

The other man is apparently on the same wavelength because once he's barricaded the door for the night ("You better hope there aren't any fires, Jason," Tim said) he flops onto the bed and opens his arms for Kon. He takes the obvious hint. Cuddling his head on a very masculine, very scarred up chest is kind of new, but it's not bad. Kon finds he's nuzzling the scars, mapping out surgical lines with his tongue. He'd seen the damage done after the demon-cult was through with him and he'd even sent Jason a couple of get well presents. But being reminded of how extensive the damage is...well it makes him glad Jason is here with them. Safe. Not that a business meeting is exactly super dangerous, but still. 

Jason is a space heater and Kon luxuriates in the warmth. He probably needs to ask Constantine how long he can expect to be cold post sliming. "You going to sit over there all night? Because farm-boy here is about to hit the hay. Or is that your plan?" Jason's voice draws him back to awareness and makes him realize that, yeah, he has kind of been drifting a little. The difference in himself and Jason, apparently, is that Jason is going to call Tim out while Kon tends to step back and let Tim come to him. 

Yet another aspect of their odd relationship to get used to. It’ll be interesting to see how Tim responds to each of them.  

Color blooms on Tim's cheeks. "Some of us have work to do. Like these reports on-" 

"They're not due for two weeks," Kon points out. He knows what’s due and when better than his partner does. Tim glares at him.  

"The gig is up, Timmy. Bedtime." Jason reconsiders his words. "Time to be in bed. Not the traditional sense of bedtime."  

Tim sits carefully on the bed, scooting inch by inch toward them. He looks like he’s expecting the ground to erupt beneath them. 

Jason sighs heavily, pressing his face to Kon's temple. "Grab and pin him on the count of three," he murmurs. 

Kon wonders at this plan. It seems fairly basic. But that just means he can pull off his part of this. Jason releases him under the guise of stretching, waiting for Tim to be far enough on the bed he can't easily leap away. "Three," Jason says.  

He wonders why he's obeying but he jumps for Tim, dragging him down onto his back on the bed. Tim's remarkably easy to pin, especially when he's not expecting it, and Kon soon has his back against the headboard and the smaller man wrapped up in his arms. Jason is flopped belly first over his legs and manages to muffle Tim's outraged squawk with a kiss.

"You'll pay," Tim mutters, squirming in Kon's hold despite the fact he has probably three times his body weight keeping him down.   

"You want us to let go?" Jason asks. He isn't touching the man then, just watches him. No means no after all. A moment later, Tim shakes his head, and leans it to the side in a clear demand for attention to be paid to his neck. 

Kon obliges, kissing down the exposed skin. "How can you resist and still demand exactly what you want?" he questions. Mostly it's a question for himself because he's given in so easily. 

"And get it?" Jason adds. He pushes Tim's shirt up as he slides down him. He gives open mouthed kisses over his belly and Kon can see the muscles jumping. Jason's large hands pin Tim's hips down and he takes his time, kissing and biting.  

Kon doesn't realize he's staring until Tim makes a little sulking noise and headbutts him a little before tilting his head again. "Bite a little. No bruises, though," he requests.  

"Demanding little shit," Jason murmurs as he licks a stripe to Tim's ribs and bites into one of them.  

It's really just a smart move to muffle the scream Tim gives first. Kon takes advantage of his open mouth to push his tongue between Tim's lips, glad when he responds eagerly to the kiss, fingers clawing at the strong arms around him.   

It occurs to him somewhere in the vicinity of taking his partner’s shirt off while Jason removes his pants that Tim has played coy and hard to get for months. He's dangled them on a string as he made his choices and now all the attention is absolutely on him. Is it a fluke? Or was it masterfully planned from the start? Either way, watching Jason take Tim's half-hard cock into his mouth is going to be burned into Kon's mind forever. It's like holding Tim still makes everything more intense for him.  

A couple of minutes in and Tim is gasping for air like he's dying, pumping his hips up against Jason's mouth and Kon feels a little jealous. He could have had that last night if Jason had been a little less drunk.  

He bites into Tim's shoulder, lifting his arms above his head to put more of his body on display for Jason (and himself, not gonna lie). Tim goes willingly, arching, grinding his ass against Kon's groin in a way that has to be deliberate rather than the world's luckiest coincidence. Oh, God, he's going to come in his pants without either of them touching him if it keeps up and that will be embarrassing. He frees his fingers enough to tweak Tim's nipple, to roll it between thumb and forefinger, getting another little whine for his efforts.  

"You like this?" Jason coos when he finally pulls off. His lips are swollen and his eyes are dark. "Loving this, Timmy? Want to get off like this?" 

"Yeah," Tim breathes, chest heaving a little bit. Kon can feel the thundering of his heartbeat.   

"Have Kon finger you open and give you a kiss while you come down my throat?" Jason continues. "You want it now?" 

"Fuck, yes," Tim says, arching up to try to get exactly that.  

Jason's grin is absolutely wicked. "Too bad," he says. "You? Shouldn't have fucked with us. People aren't toys."   

Kon is startled by the fact that Jason is suddenly sitting up, straddling Tim to keep him pinned but kissing him over Tim's head. He hears the smaller man's agonized whimper but he can even tune it out, tasting him on Jason's tongue. Jason knows how to kiss, just the right amount of sweetness and aggression. "Wanna play, corn boy?" Jason questions. "While Timmy is in timeout to think about what he did?” 

"Let's do it," he answers, feeling a little malicious. Tim instantly tries to squirm away but Kon still has a good hold on him, and Jason sitting on him is effectively as good as tying him to the bed.  

It's kind of like before. Kon frees his hand to tangle in Jason's hair and Jason moans appreciatively, skimming his lips over Kon's jaw and finally over to his chest. Tim being smashed between them means they are limited in what they can touch, but he’s taking a certain malicious pleasure in Tim's little squirms for freedom.  

Jason has to rise up a bit for Kon to pull his sleep shorts down and, once again, he's a little apprehensive even as he starts jerking him off with leisurely strokes. "Still not in the mood?" he teases, rolling his hips up to fuck Kon's fist. Tim's not the only one who is demanding. 

“You’re bigger than me,” Kon explains, enjoying the smooth slide of warm skin under his hand. He twists his wrist a little, changing the angle of his grip and Jason moans at the sensation. “I think I need to work my way up to that.”  

“I’ll do it,” Tim offers breathlessly. He rests his head against Kon’s shoulder to look at him with suddenly intense blue eyes. “Let me,” he pleads.  

“Who can say no to that?” Jason replies and captures Kon’s lips again. “Let me open you up,” he whispers. “I’ll treat ya right.” 

“What about timeout?” 

Tim whimpers and squirms, trying again to twist his way out of Kon’s arms. He lets him escape this time and Jason immediately closes the gap, pressing in close and still thrusting lazily into Kon’s hand. “He can watch me get ya warmed up.” 

“He gets off on that.” 

It’s like they’re completely ignoring the man crouched next to them. Neither miss the intense way he’s still staring at Kon, his mouth slightly open as he breathes heavily and waits.  

“If he gets off too soon, then it kinda defeats the purpose.” Jason winks and snatches another kiss from him, his tongue teasing and lingering against his lips.  

“I won’t,” Tim says vehemently. “Please. I’ll stop with the games. _Let me do this_ ,” he begs. He looks like he wants to reach out and touch Kon, to reassure him that he’s serious.  

“Sounds like someone really wants your cherry,” Jason drawls and starts mouthing his way down Kon’s neck.  

It’s a daunting thought when put in those terms. But, while he’s still a little nervous at the thought of someone plowing his ass, Kon knows without a doubt that Tim will take the utmost care and Jason...well, he’ll make damn sure he’s good and ready before his partner is allowed near.  

“Okay,” he finally agrees, locking eyes with Tim as Jason immediately extricates himself from Kon’s grip to peel off his sleep pants and boxers, revealing the half-hard cock beneath. Not that it would take all that long to fix that.  

“Take off your shirt,” Jason orders, his hands rubbing the thick flesh of Kon’s thighs. “No more clothes allowed.” 

The shirt is yanked off and tossed across the room.  

Jason smirks wickedly. “I believe I owe you a raincheck from last night.” 

“Yeah?” Kon questions, not seeing what this has to do with anything, but still not planning to say no after the performance he’d just witnessed. The smirk grows as a large hand wraps around his cock, giving it a few firm strokes. Kon grins and arches into. He gets it now. “So I get to come twice tonight.”  

“The only way to relax you enough,” Jason says as he maneuvers his broad shoulders between Kon’s knees. He settles in and, just as Kon can feel his damp breath against his sensitive skin, he shifts slightly and places one of Kon’s legs over his shoulder. 

The angle must be better or something because Jason swallows him down like nothing.  

“Oh god,” he gasps and tries hard not to close his eyes as the sight of Jason Todd Wayne blowing him is not one he wants to miss a moment of.  

“He’s got no gag reflex,” Tim says ever so helpfully from next to him. “Last time I tried something like that without a warm up, I almost vomited.”  

Kon wants to make a smartass remark but his breath is literally being sucked out of him through his cock. It’s not going to be long. In fact, it might even be an embarrassingly short amount of time before he comes.  

But Jason seems to know exactly when to pull back and slow things down, dragging his lips over Kon’s length to flick his tongue over the tip. The man’s eyes are blown and dark with desire, but somehow still managing to look challenging. There’s no doubt who’s in control here.  

That’s fine with him.  

Jason snaps his fingers at Tim and holds a hand out imperiously. He never breaks eye contact with Kon.  

Tim scrambles about, swearing softly before he jumps off the bed and darts into the bathroom. Jason swallows Kon back down, his nose buried in the dark hair at the base of Kon’s weeping cock. God, it won’t be much longer. 

“Here,” Tim says quickly as he returns to the bed with lube and condoms. He hands the bottle to Jason and settles back in to the same spot as before. 

The man pulls off momentarily. “Good boy,” he praises and uncaps the lid with a deft flick of his thumb.  

Tim beams but doesn’t try for anything else. His gaze darts back to Kon before returning to Jason. Or rather, where Jason’s hand is raising Kon’s other leg up and over his shoulder, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the show to come.  

Jason laps at his cock again as he lubes up a finger. “I’ll take it slow,” he promises, mouthing at the blunt tip.  

They shift on the bed as Jason raises Kon’s hips up. Wordlessly, Tim grabs a pillow and, once Jason nods in approval, shoves it under the small of his back to better support him. His hands don’t linger but his eyes do.  

As much as it spoils the game they’re playing, Kon decides he needs to hold someone’s hand when he feels a slick finger make its way up the cleft of his ass. He grasps at Tim’s knee and he takes the hint, looking at him for approval first rather than Jason. Nice to see he’s got his priorities straight here.  

It’s not that Kon hasn’t explored back there before. He has but on his own, the angle is always awkward and weird and he’s never quite managed to find that spot that supposedly could make him come without even touching his cock. After a while, it just became a nonissue. But now he has not one, but _two_ partners who are more than happy to find it for him. He’s kinda excited about that but the reality of Jason’s large finger, even lubed as it is, probing ever so gently at his hole and teasing the muscle is making him nervous as a virgin again.  

And if there’s one thing he hasn’t been for a long time, it’s a virgin.  

Jason must have felt him tense up as he starts sucking his cock again. Kon groans as that warm _wet_ mouth envelopes his length. The man has serious skill there. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps. “That mouth...”  

“He’s got talent,” Tim agrees, still holding his hand and squeezing it when Kon bucks up as the tip of Jason’s finger enters him, slowly massaging the ring of muscle to relax it. “I wonder what he thinks about rimming?” he idly comments as he watches Jason swallow.  

The man in question moans around Kon’s cock, the vibrations buzzing around his length, and he gazes questioningly up at him. He looks excited.  

“Maybe another time,” Kon says and tries to ignore what he knows is a disappointed groan around his cock. That needs to stop happening or else he’s going to lose it. He focuses instead on his partner.

Tim watches Jason blow Kon and work him open with almost clinical detachment but there’s no denying the fact he’s excited and turned on by what’s occurring. Kneeling as he is, his cock juts out proudly from a nest of dark hair. He’s nowhere near as big as Jason (the man belongs in porn, seriously) but he’s got nothing to be ashamed of either.  It looks...manageable.  

Strangely, the sight of his partner’s dick helps him relax. Which is good, as Jason’s finger is sliding in to at least the first knuckle and that feels all kinds of odd. The stretch doesn’t burn though, doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable, which was the entire purpose behind going it slow. At the same time, it would be nice to come. 

As Jason rocks his finger slowly, Kon takes the opportunity to carefully rock his hips, thrusting into that wet heat. Jason groans at that and stops bobbing his head. He looks up at Kon again, his lips stretched obscenely wide around his cock, and _winks_ at him. 

Well, if that’s not an invitation, he doesn’t know what is. 

It’s hard to say who’s more into it. The angle isn’t the best for Kon but Jason is moaning and is obviously enjoying having his face fucked. Tim is clasping Kon’s hand insanely tight and has somehow lost control of his filter. “Jason. Kon. Fuck. Please _. Please_. Let me touch. Let me do something. Please.” 

Somehow in the midst of this, Kon misses Jason sliding his finger all the way in. But he doesn’t miss the second one joining it, scissoring oh so carefully.  

“Fuck,” Kon gasps and yanks Tim down, needing the distraction from the slight burn. 

Tim braces himself on Kon’s broad shoulder and meets his eager mouth with a desperate sound of his own. It’s a fight for dominance, one that Kon is sure he’s going to let his partner win because there are just too many things happening to his body to allow for thought or things like plans. 

And then coherent thought leaves him completely as Jason finds his prostate.  

Kon slams his head back against the pillow, tearing his mouth away from Tim as he stiffens around the fingers buried deep in his ass. “Jason,” he growls, his voice guttural in a way he didn’t know is possible.  

The man doesn’t stop, not now that he’s found the right spot, curling his fingers and hitting it again and again. He sucks harder, and all too soon there’s that familiar tightening in his balls as he reaches his peak. Kon tries to warn Jason but he ignores the insistent hand wrapped in his hair that tugs at those black strands, at the shock of white over his brow.  

“Come for him,” Tim orders, running a long fingered hand down his torso to tweak one of his nipples.  

The extra stimulus is enough and Kon’s orgasm rips through him like a tidal wave. He shouts as he comes, and Jason swallows around him. Once. Twice. He pulls off as Kon sucks deep breathes of air in and tries to recover some semblance of coherency from what is quite possibly the best orgasm ever. Prostate stimulation, A fucking plus in his book. 

Jason’s not done with him yet.  

He rises up from between Kon’s knees, not removing his fingers from the soft and pliant body beneath him. He shares a wicked smirk with Tim before he kisses him.  

Kon watches in bemusement as the two men tongue wrestle above him. Tim looks like he’s about to devour Jason as he licks and laps at the man’s mouth like it contains the answers to everything he’s ever wanted to know.  

And Jason? He lets him. 

The two men are stunning together and even though the focus has been mostly on him, he still can’t help but feel like he’s the one intruding on what these two could have together.  

But even in the midst of the soul stealing kiss, Jason doesn’t lose focus of what he’s supposed to be doing. Kon feels a third finger poke at his hole, this one more easily joining the others. His prostate isn’t being abused anymore and all he can do is just lie there in a boneless heap as the two other men in this new relationship make-out above him.  

Kon can’t help but notice Tim’s still being careful with his hands. He’s got one of them tight in his grasp but the other is clenching his knee tight enough there’ll be more bruises before long. Feeling a tiny bit sneaky, Kon leads the hand he’s holding down to Jason’s heavy cock.  

Jason rears back from Tim’s mouth in surprise as two hands start working the thick length. “No fair,” he says, his already deep voice sounding even lower with a more pronounced rasp to it. “I got _plans_ and they don’t involve blowing my load in a hand job.” 

“Yeah?” Kon asks challengingly. “Where do you plan to?” 

“Tim’s ass.” 

There’s a flash of pain on Tim’s face, there and gone so fast that Kon almost believes he’s seeing things. But he knows his partner and, combined with what he overhead between him and Steph earlier, he’s certain there’s more to the story of what happened the night Jason disappeared last year. He remembers all too well how shaken Tim had been after the phone calls that woke them both, much more so than if Jason had simply been a person they were trying (and failed) to protect.  

Jason’s amnesia started that night too. He still remembers the pinball match from earlier in the day but nothing from that night and into the next day when they rescued him.  

Before he can say anything, Tim grabs Jason by the hair and hauls his head back to his, smashing his lips to the taller man’s like he wants to devour him. “ _Yes_ ,” he says fiercely when he finally lets them separate to breathe. “ _Yes._ ” 

His eyes darken even more, a feat Kon didn’t think possible. His fingers, still deep inside his body, curl over that spot again and Kon moans, his spent cock twitching weakly. “I don’t think farm boy is gonna get more relaxed than this,” he says with a devilish grin.  

Tim focuses back on Kon, letting go of Jason as he does. He shifts and leans in close, whispering so only Kon can hear him. “You can still say no,” he offers. “I want you to want it.” 

The words mean a lot coming from his often selfish partner. They really do. But Kon knows what he wants and has for a long time. “I want you,” he replies simply, running his hand through Tim’s long bangs. “I have for a long time.” 

His smile is blinding. Tim kisses him softly, gently like he’s the most precious thing in the world. It’s so different from how he kisses Jason. Yet another reminder of how Tim views the two of them. He cares for them both deeply but in such different ways. Another conversation for another day.  

As Tim moves to take his place between Kon’s legs, Jason removes his fingers and rolls off to the side, scooting up the bed to take his place next to Kon. He stretches out on his side, stroking his cock lazily as he catches his weighted gaze.  

“You alright?” he asks.  

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Kon replies honestly. “You did good.” 

“Of course I did,” Jason grins widely. He sticks his tongue out and waggles it around. “It would have been more fun with this.” 

“Save it for Tim.” 

Tim smacks the side of Kon’s knee. “Don’t distract me.”  

Both men watch as he rolls on the condom, preening ever so slightly under their combined attention. Jason hands him the lube without being asked.  

Butterflies start fluttering in Kon’s stomach. This is it. Oh god. Is this what it’s like for girls the first time? But before Tim even tries to enter him, he slides his lubed fingers into his prepped entrance, feeling for himself how relaxed and ready his body is.  

This time, his heart flutters.  

Those fingers brush against the spot Kon is slowly learning to love. His back arches as he thrusts into the air, his cock twitching again as it tries to harden under the stimulation. His refractory period isn’t too long but wow, he hasn’t seen that happen since high school.  

Tim chuckles as he does it again. “You look surprised.” 

“Didn’t know I could do that,” Kon gasps out.  

“Let’s see what else you can do.” The fingers leave his body and Tim spreads his thighs as he lines himself up. 

Kon tries to relax, tries to stay calm, but even with as slow, as carefully as Tim is going, there’s more of a burn than he expects as his partner fucks his way into his body. He lets out a pained gasp and Tim stops, blue eyes wide and on him.  

“You okay?” Jason is the one to ask. He’s been keeping his hands off the two of them but he starts running a hand through Kon’s short hair.  

“Just...gimme a second.”  

Tim nods but it looks like the most painful thing for him. Kon can’t blame him. He’s halfway in and nowhere to go but out. It strikes him as utterly hilarious and he starts laughing.  

The pained expression grows. “ _Kon_ ,” he groans.  

“Sorry!”  

Jason smacks him upside the head. “Come on, man. Timmy’s gonna explode.” 

“Isn’t that the point?” 

Tim growls, in frustration or amusement, it’s hard to tell, but the expression makes Kon laugh even more. 

“So much for being serious here,” Jason tries, but there’s a stupid grin on his face too. 

Kon can tell Tim is about to give up and pull out, frustration winning out in those pale blue eyes. He preempts that by rocking against his cock, the movement driving it incrementally further into his body. It doesn’t hurt anymore. In fact, it’s starting to feel really damn good. 

“Come on, Tim. I’m ready.” 

Tim’s hands drop to his hips, then slide up his body as he drapes himself over his chest. The angle of his cock shifts as he moves, driving further in until he’s fully seated inside Kon. He steals a quick kiss before he rises up on his arms, hands firmly planted on Kon’s shoulders to brace himself. “No more games,” Tim says and _thrusts_ hard to emphasize his point. 

It’s like nothing Kon has ever felt before. Sure, he’s been in Tim’s position many times, but never with a man before and never as the one being fucked. As his partner rocks his hips, he can feel the slide of his cock in his body. It takes a minute or so for his brain to come back online enough to start moving with Tim and take a more active role. He grabs Tim’s hips. “Harder,” he breathes. 

Tim’s eyes blaze as he complies, thrusting harder, _faster_. He shifts minutely and Kon suddenly sees stars again as he finds that spot. His own cock fills even more, pressed between their bodies. 

“Fuck, you guys,” Jason says from out of nowhere.

Kon’s head whips to the side. He’d forgotten the man is even there. Gotta fix that. He opens his mouth, his lips parted in invitation. 

Jason takes it, smashing their faces together and stealing his breath yet again with his talented tongue. But he doesn’t stay there long and turns his attention on Tim, doing the same to him. His partner doesn’t even miss a beat, continuing to fuck into Kon as Jason devours his mouth. 

The visual stimulus, combined with the continued assault on his prostate has Kon reaching his second peak faster than he expects. “Guys,” he says warningly. 

Tim tears himself away from Jason and turns his attention solely on him. His hands slide off his shoulders and onto the pillows, framing his face as he looms over him. He doesn’t miss a beat as he laps at Kon’s mouth, his own tongue teasing in and out in a parody of what his cock is doing further down. 

It’s hot. It’s messy, and Kon finds himself drowning in those pale blue eyes. 

He comes again, this time without a hand ever having touched him. 

Tim thrusts into his tight body a few more times before he finds his own release. His mouth hangs open as he comes, rocking his hips with short, sharp jabs as he does. He collapses against Kon’s chest when he’s finished, not seeming to mind the sticky mess smearing between them. 

“Now that was fuckin’ hot,” Jason says as he settles in next to them again. “How you feelin’, corn boy?” 

“Plowed,” he replies after a moment where the planets realign and speech returns. 

Jason laughs and against his chest, Kon can feel Tim chuckle too. “Seriously, though. You alright?” 

“Never better,” Kon replies and wraps Tim in his arms. He wants cuddle time, but he can feel the press of Jason’s cock against his hip. How the man has managed to not come yet is beyond him. 

“I’ll give you two a minute, but I’d really like my turn soon.” 

Tim wriggles his ass at Jason, the motion dislodging his softened cock from Kon’s body. “I expect tongue,” he says, turning his head to gaze at Jason with an impish grin. 

“It’s nice to want things.” But Jason’s grinning as his eyes run up and down their naked bodies. “Be right back.” 

He gets up and heads into the bathroom, returning a moment later with tissues and a washcloth. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Kon just lays there as his boyfriends take care of him. It’s nice to be pampered for once, even if it does mean no more cuddle time. The washcloth is _warm_ and feels good against his abused ass. He has a feeling it’ll be at least a few days before he’ll be up for trying this again. Not that the next few days are going to be anything but work, work, and more work. God damn, how did he manage to forget he’ll be part of an exorcism in the morning? 

Oh, right. Sex. 

Sex with two incredibly hot men who have taken the opportunity to start making out above him again. Tim had never struck him as someone who enjoys kissing all that much, but Kon is rapidly reevaluating that opinion. Maybe it’s just Jason bringing it out in him. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s all three of them. 

Jason starts groping at Tim’s ass, his fingers kneading the firm muscle and spreading his cheeks. It’s hard to see with the horrible suits the man wears, but he really does have a nice butt. 

Kon takes the hint. He’s never done this before either, but he’s gone down on enough women to know where to start. Tim is on his knees facing Jason, so he doesn’t see him move. But he knows he’s there if the little jump he makes when Kon nips at the skin on his ass is any indication. 

Tim gasps as he rears back from Jason’s mouth. “Kon,” he says brokenly as he does it again a little harder, this time licking the skin. Jason recaptures his mouth, swallowing his moan. His grip on Tim tightens and he spreads the muscle even more. 

Kon catches his teal gaze and nods. He can do this. 

The full body shudder from his partner as he laps against his tight little hole tells him he’s doing it right. He puts all his efforts into getting more of that reaction out of him. Tim obliges eagerly. But all too soon, Kon feels Jason’s hand running through his hair, pulling him back. He gazes up at him questioningly. 

“He ready?” Jason asks. 

Tim nods fast, mouthing the side of Jason’s neck. “I don’t need much. I can take it.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

Kon wets his pinky finger in his mouth and rubs the saliva dampened digit against the ring of muscle he’s been working so hard to relax. Tim moans loudly as his body accepts the invasion and rocks back against it. It’s impressive how easily his finger slides in and out, so he adds a second one. “With some lube, he could take three,” he finally replies. 

“I wanna see that,” Jason grins. 

While Kon searches the bed for said container, Jason lays Tim out on his stomach, grabbing the pillow they’d already ruined and placing it under his hips. “Can you get on your knees?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Tim replies and raises his ass in the air as he spreads his knees wide. They’re already starting to bruise from his fall earlier, but that isn’t stopping him in the slightest. 

Jason is running his hands up and down the back of his thighs when Kon finally finds the lube. “Now isn’t that a pretty sight?” he purrs. 

“No arguments from me,” Kon agrees as he hands the bottle to the man and watches him slick up a few fingers. 

Tim takes them easily and puts on a show as he fucks himself on the lubed digits. Kon can’t stop staring. Can’t believe he’s a part of this, that it’s happening to him. Jason seems just as entranced, but it doesn’t stop him from dragging Kon in for one of his absolutely filthy kisses. He explores every inch of his mouth, stealing his breath, and, for all he knows, his very soul. 

God, he hopes this works out. He’s under absolutely no illusions there won’t be problems, but right now, right here, they seem so far away. 

“Jason,” Tim growls, bringing their attention back on him. “Fuck me, dammit.” 

“So demanding,” the man says as he breaks away from Kon. “Whaddya think, farm boy? I think he’s ready now.” 

More than ready. Kon grins and smacks Tim’s ass as he hands Jason the condom he found with the lube. “If I weren’t so done, I’d want a turn.” 

“Next time.” Jason rips open the foil and rolls on the rubber in one smooth move. He stokes his cock a few times with his already slick fingers and guides the head to Tim’s entrance. “God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he breathes as he rocks in slowly, each thrust sending him further and further into Tim’s body. He places his hands on the smaller man’s hips and thrusts harder. 

Kon gets it. Oh man, does he ever. He wants to be the one in Jason’s position right now so badly, but he knows his body’s limits and if he manages to do more than twitch in the next half an hour, he’ll be surprised. But Tim…he’s taking his breath away as he takes every single inch of Jason’s cock like he was fucking born for it. His body writhes and arches under their combined gazes, putting himself on display as much for Kon as he is for Jason who keeps fucking him harder and harder. 

He’s not going to last long. They all know it. But damn if Jason isn’t going to make the most of it. He grabs Tim by the hair and hauls him up against his chest, draping him over those mouthwatering thighs and fucks harder, the new angle not slowing him down in the slightest. Tim’s cock is enveloped in one of the man’s large hands as he strokes him hard. 

“Watch your partner, Timmy,” Jason orders, locking eyes with Kon. “Next time we do this, he’s gonna fuck you so good. Maybe I should fuck your mouth while we’re at it. Take ya from both ends.” His mouth is filthy as he gets closer and closer to his own end. 

But Tim seems to love it. “Yes,” he pleads. “Either of you. Both of you. I don’t care, just don’t leave me alone.” There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, one that seems out of place considering the situation. Neither of them are going anywhere. 

And then Kon’s brain starts firing again and he remembers the earlier conversation he overheard between Tim and Stephanie. How every single lover Tim has ever had has been hurt because of him. 

Not anymore. 

Kon captures Tim’s mouth with his own. “You’re ours,” he says fiercely. “Shit’s gonna happen because that’s what we do, but this?” he mouths the side of Jason’s neck briefly before returning to Tim. “We’re three. You’re the numbers nut. There’s power or something in that.” 

It’s apparently enough as Tim’s eyes practically roll back in his head as he comes all over Jason’s hand. 

“Timmy,” Jason groans as his eyes close tightly. He buries his face against Tim’s neck as he bites at his shoulder, his hips jerking hard against the smaller man’s ass as he finally meets his own end. 

Kon feels exhausted just watching them. Goddammit, this is so much better than porn. 

The two men collapse bonelessly on the bed, Jason carefully pulling out as he does. Kon slips off the bed to grab some more tissue from the bathroom and another washcloth. He makes a mental note to leave a good tip for the maid when they finally let her come clean their room. With all of Tim’s equipment, not to mention both of their laptops, they’ve been leaving the “Do Not Disturb” sign up every time they leave. 

Back in bed, he helps clean up Tim, who’s just barely hanging on to consciousness from the looks of it. Jason knots the condom and wads it up in the tissue before throwing it over the bed to the trash can under the desk. 

“He shoots, he scores,” Kon teases. 

“We both did,” Jason says as he settles in behind Tim and pulls the bedsheets up over them. Kon turns off all the lights except for the bathroom light and slips in on the other side, completing the Tim sandwich. Clothing doesn’t seem to be a thing that’s happening tonight. 

Jason is lightly running a hand through Tim’s hair. There’s a pensive look on his face, like something’s bothering him. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” Kon asks, stroking small circles in the soft skin of Tim’s waist. His partner rumbles in apparent contentment. 

“It’s just…” Jason trails off as he tries to find the right words. “This is gonna sound strange, but…I feel like I’ve done this before.”

“Done what?”

“Fucked Tim.” 

Under their hands, neither man misses Tim suddenly stiffening. 

"No offense," Jason says quickly, trying to recover. "I'm not comparing you to someone else or calling you mediocre or generic or anything." 

Tim still isn't relaxing. "How do you mean?" Kon asks because sometimes he, like Tim, can't simply leave well enough alone. This is a mystery. One he hasn't been privy to and he hates it. He hates what he feels has been Tim suffering alone for so long. With what, he's not sure, but he’s good at reading Tim. Has always been good at it. 

Jason props up on one elbow to look at them, as much as he can in the near-darkness. "Just...it's familiar? Like things falling back into place? Like a memory coming back after it-" This time it's Jason who stiffens. Whose shoulders go rigid. "We _have_ ," he breathes. "We _have_ done this before." 

"I don't want to talk about it." Tim's tone is blunt, but strained. He's shutting down, closing any paths to his emotions. Kon feels his muscles twitch as he tries to curl up, then realizes he can't when he's surrounded this way. "Please. I can't. Right now, I just can't."

It explains a lot, Kon decides. It explains why Tim withdrew somewhat from them both. It explains why he had a habit of making plans with them and then bailing at the last moment. Tim's the reason, in more ways than one, how he ended up drinking with Jason so many times. 

"Look, I know some of my memories aren't there. I know I asked for it. So how do you know?" Jason sounds just as confused as Kon feels. What must it be like not remembering certain days? Certain important, if traumatic days? Kon had been all too happy to write off what little he'd seen of Jason's amnesia as trauma-based and move on with his life. It wasn't like they needed to chat about that specific time. Hell, he even thought Jason remembered some of it when he joked about his shitty toy car running over a fence or the fact that seeing Bruce smash his face against the floor must have been great. 

But Jason doesn't, Kon realizes now. He gathers what facts are available and has been constructing a memory for himself, hoping to trigger actual recollections. 

"I was there," Tim says softly. "Please. I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to _think_ about this. I don't...I don't want this ruined right now. Can I just have eight hours where it's not? A solid workday of not fucking up a relationship beyond compare?" His voice rises. His heart is thundering against his heaving ribs. 

"You're going to hyperventilate," Kon murmurs to him. Moving is the last thing he wants to do but he needs to. He sits up, dragging Tim with him to ease some of the pressure on his lungs from his rapid breathing.

Kon tries to look at Jason, tries to ask him to maybe just let this go, at least for now. Of course he knows it’s not an option. He’d never let it go if he thought he’d had sex with someone he cared for and didn’t remember a shred of it later.

"I'm fine," Tim snaps. "It's fine. I just want to go to sleep."

There's quiet in the room. Kon is wondering if he should go ahead and turn on a light. Then they can all at least see clearly while they awkwardly look at one another. He's exhausted too. Still buzzing from the really awesome sex, chest still aching with something good and happy and that feeling is slowly deflating in the worst sort of way. 

Jason finally breaks the silence. "I'm sorry." Those are infamously rare from the billionaire's son. "Really, Timmy. I'm sorry. It doesn't matter to me what pieces I'm missing, except I think it matters to you." He's stumbling over his words. Kon still thinks he's doing well considering there's been no time to rehearse. "You can tell me if you ever want. When you're ready." 

Tim has lost a lot in his life. Most people see him as weird and eccentric. Smart, but spoiled. Not a lot of people know he comes from wealth but they do know that he hasn't had to struggle in easily perceived ways. But Kon's heard him wake from the nightmares about his father's death. He knows his friend buys flowers for his mom's grave every Mother's Day even as he protests at the vapid consumerism of the holiday. He's seen his gaze on him as he interacts with his family and it had been startling to Kon to realize that Tim really has no one else. No family. Few friends. Added to a near catastrophic love life and he's amazed Tim is as normal and functional as he is. 

Kon wraps his arms around him and presses his face against his bare shoulder. Tim is tense for a moment more before he slowly eases into it. Jason joins them after a moment, curling around Tim so much that his arms are actually against him. Kon gropes for Jason's hand in the darkness, fingers clutching his in reassurance. "I don't know what the hell is going on here," he admits at last. "But I'm here for whatever. For the long haul, Tim."

"What about me?" Jason asks teasingly. 

"You're alright," Kon agrees after a moment. "I guess. For a horse."

It makes Tim laugh, which is what they were aiming for, and he sees the flash of Jason's teeth in a grin. A lot of them are fake, and sometimes he wonders about that too and if there's more of a reason behind it than rich people vanity. 

"I'm happy, though," Kon adds. "Is there anything we can do to make you happier?" 

"Short of going on a coffee run and letting you bathe in it," Jason adds. "Because it's late and I'm not sure about you but I'm super comfortable. I want to get my beauty sleep in before we have to go fight various spooky things and perform an exorcism." 

Kon groans and Tim snorts. "Come on, it's not going to be that bad. And it's a service to them. Constance wants to be set free and Harriet can't be all that pleased."

"Murderous entertainment value aside," Jason comments in a dry tone. He has a well-known soft spot for kids but apparently that soft spot does not extend to the homicidal and undead version.

Tim is slowly sliding back down onto the pillows, his breathing eased now that they are talking more about a haunting issue instead of a relationship issue. Kon follows him down, settling back comfortably. The beds were decent to begin with but they are so much better with two people you care about and a mountain of covers over you. 

"It's the right thing to do," Tim replies in a way that means he's been mentally arguing with himself. "This way everybody wins. They get their eternal rest and the kids at the school get a break. I get one amazing story to tell, too. Like, do you think anyone else has witnessed a triple exorcism? It'll be amazing!"

Kon can't control the little shudder that goes through him. He thinks it probably won't be amazing, but he'll be there anyway. It will be like the unintentional pyromaniac where his job was pretty much standing by Tim with a fire extinguisher and warning him that certain things were a bad idea. "It'll be something, alright."

"Now we've got little Timmy all wound up. He's not gonna be able to sleep. Like a kid on Christmas." Jason's hand moves beneath the covers. 

"If you even try to touch below the waist I'll break your arm," Tim says, halfway through a yawn so the words are a bit garbled. "Maybe in the morning and only then after you make the appropriate offerings."

"You want a dozen roses all over the bed when you wake up?" Jason offers. "Because I could have that done. I don't like to abuse my power but I totally think this is worth it." 

Kon isn't so sure. He's also trying to imagine the unfortunate rose petals being ground into the sheets. "Coffee," he informs Jason. "He wants an offering of coffee. There's this sweet spot you have to hit between keeping him energized for the morning and stopping his heart." 

"I’ll show you another sweet spot," Jason replies. Kon doesn’t even have to look at him to know he’s grinning. "You sure this exorcism thing is safe?” he continues, this time more seriously. “We shouldn't just leave it to the professionals?"

"Constantine is a professional. Stop worrying and go to sleep," Tim says which is surprisingly reasonable for him. He's growing up. Kon's so proud. 

"I can't," Jason grouses as he adjusts himself and flops back down into a more comfortable position. 

Tim starts the burrowing he does just before he falls asleep. "Then just be quiet.”

That request, at least, is obeyed. Tim falls asleep pretty quickly, and Jason soon follows, but Kon finds that he can't calm his thoughts enough to rest. He's still entirely fixated on this idea of what happened a year ago. Jason's memory altered, Tim's caution over telling him the whole truth. So much of it makes more sense now. 

Tim has more of a reason to be an asshole than most. And he's usually not. It's why Kon loves him.

Hmm. That word. He evaluates it. But he's known for a long time that he loves Tim Drake. As a friend and a partner. He knows, without a doubt, that Tim loves him too in his own slightly bizarre way. 

His musings on loving Jason might have to wait. Kon can feel sleep tugging at the corners of his mind at last. He knows, though, that he's happy with Jason's hand resting on his hip. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn and plot. Is there anything better?


	11. Chapter 11

They don't stay cuddled together all night, because of course no one can logically sleep that way. Jason rolls to the far side of the bed and turns to face the door. Tim flops face down in his attempt to become one with the mattress and Kon...well Kon feels like he's the most normal of them sleeping on his back with an arm splayed across his partner. 

He's always been an early riser and he's up first in the morning, trying to decide between hunting down coffee or taking a shower. Shower, then the water heater will have time to recover. Maybe. It will also wake him up a bit more because, fun as their activities managed to be, he's probably lucky if he got four hours of sleep. At least growing up on a farm has taught him that it doesn't matter when you went to bed; chickens still need to be fed and a cow still needs to be milked and if you don't repair that fence then the goats will get loose. 

Evaluating the two men in bed while he gets his clothes out of his suitcase, he decides Tim is probably the chicken and Jason is the goat. It's too early to go into milk analogies so he leaves that alone. 

The shower is done quickly and Kon actually takes time to put on moisturizer afterward. It's some of Tim's, because winter is setting in and Tim requires it to not become a lizard, but the slime and resulting scrubbing hasn't done wonders for Kon's skin either. He's going to hope the residual itching and flaking isn't anything more serious. He doubts he could find a reputable doctor who would accept what happened to him to cause his complaint. 

Jason is awake by the time he's out of the bathroom, lounging in bed but engrossed with his phone. He's avidly typing something out, so Kon takes a moment to just watch him. He looks better than he has any right to. Thick thighs, a trim but sturdy waist. His chest is...definitely interesting. Kon purposefully tries not to look at it because he knows Jason is self-conscious about the scarring. So far, he's found only licking makes him seem to forget the damage. Something to keep in mind. 

There's been a lot of cosmetic surgery done to the man, but it's been in all the right ways in Kon's opinion. The work is good enough to improve the tone and texture while still leaving little imperfections. 

"I can't do that thing where body builders make their pecs dance," Jason comments dryly. "In case you were wondering." 

He hadn't been before, but he kind of is now. He shakes his head. "Excuse me if you look like some kind of Greek sculpture in repose." 

"With cell phone," Jason adds. He glances to Tim. "Does he always like...not breathe for a minute?"

"He's breathing. It's just shallow," Kon confirms. "I feel like it's some kind of playing opossum defense mechanism." He actually feels like Tim is sort of talented for his ability to breathe even when his face is buried in a pillow. But maybe these feelings are what signify love. He's impressed by even the little idiosyncrasies that Tim possesses. "I'm going to go grab breakfast, though. You want anything in particular? Thought I'd get a variety." 

It's strange how structured their days on this assignment have become. They blur together in a kind of pleasant way if you discount 'that day Tim almost drowned' or 'the evening of the axe attack' or 'when I almost became hypothermic from ghost slime'.  It could be more like this, Kon knows now. In this relationship. This easy thing between them that could continue even into their normal lives. 

That's a lie. No life with Tim will ever be normal. 

"Is there something funny about a sausage burrito?" Jason asks him. "Because you have this really dopey grin on your face." 

Kon tries to smooth out his expression. "Nothing funny unless you were about to make a joke about deep throating the burrito," he says quickly, trying to recover. "And that sounds dangerous." 

Jason just looks confused so Kon assumes his joke fell flat. He finds a pen and a notepad. The same type he uses for interviews, not that it seems like that might happen this case. He always likes to be prepared. Right now, it's simply writing down breakfast orders.

Leaving the room is kind of liberating. It gives him space to think and even though there are no regrets (like absolutely none. Zero.) about what happened, Kon is glad for the independence and the quiet. Tim sways him easily into things he thinks are a bad idea. Jason makes a joke and changes Kon's opinion often enough. It's endearing, it makes him better, but he thinks a little assertion of his own so that this won't be a codependent relationship is great for all parties involved. 

Even if that independent rebellion is driving for fast food breakfast sandwiches. Kon cranks the radio up in a way he rarely does with Tim in the car and ventures out a little more than their typical safety radius for cases. He orders a variety of breakfast stuffs, ranging from horribly unhealthy to maybe passable as nutritionally balanced. He even stocks up on coffee for Tim and a bottled tea drink for Jason. There's a kind of odd satisfaction in such a basic task. It's similar to when he's ever cooked for his partner; he feels way more accomplished than he probably should for feeding an adult man. 

He knocks on Stephanie's door first. She answers in her pajamas and squints at him before rummaging through the bag of offerings, selecting what she wants, and slamming the door in his face. He doesn't take it personally. Her grunt probably was a good morning and the fact she waited until his foot was out of the door was gratitude for feeding her. 

Constantine is outside smoking and talking on the phone when Kon approaches him. He can only understand maybe every third or fourth word out of the man's mouth but he at least gets a gruff nod of thanks as he too takes what he wants from the bags.

That leaves him getting back to his room. His room with Tim. His room with Tim that also has Jason in it. The room where they all had sex. Kon still feels like it's not real. This whole morning has a surreal quality about it. For a change it's in a good way.

He hears the scrape of a chair against the door which means Jason is up and feeling insecure. Kon is a little troubled by Jason's paranoia, but he can deal with some extra reassurance in the form of a more secured entry point. Tim is the one who lets him in, which is kind of impressive because he hadn't expected to even see him upright for a few more hours. 

"Morning," Tim says which is the best anyone has done. He leans forward to give Kon a light kiss, clumsy enough though to bump his mouth against Kon's teeth. 

Kon makes a face, setting his drinks and food down to rub at his mouth. Tim vacantly stares at the coffee until Kon physically puts it in his hand. "Don't burn yourself."

Tim purrs like a happy cat and goes back to bed with his new treasure. Maybe he's more like a dragon. Either way, he's guarding it and an egg sandwich like they are the most precious things to him. 

Jason's in the shower and Tim is kind of conscious so Kon decides they’re off to a good enough start. He sits at the desk to eat his own food and drink his coffee.

There's time to do the check in reports that need doing. He verifies that they are alive and doing well (thanks, Director) and writes a few notes about the progress they've made. It will help him when he has to write a final report later. He's not convinced anyone important ever actually reads them, however, because he's literally caught Tim typing the phrase 'and then some other stuff happened' and he hasn't yet been disciplined. The guy can be charming when he wants to. 

Speaking of charming, Jason emerges from the bathroom in a new pair of boxer briefs. They're black, and they look great, but he kind of misses the red. The taller man wanders over to retrieve his hash browns first, pausing before offering Kon a kiss to the cheek. 

They both wince a little. "I don't think we're chaste good morning kiss people," Jason decides before he crams half of the oddly large hash brown in his mouth. He holds it there while he goes back to the mirror and starts to tame his hair. Kon knows now from experience (gripping, pulling experience) how thick it is. He's impressed it stays as managed as it does. 

He could get used to this. Existing in the same space but also alone. They're all in their own little worlds, performing their own little tasks, and yet Kon doesn't feel intruded upon by their presence. Of course, it probably helps he's all but ready to go while Jason is making himself presentable and Tim will probably pull on clothes about thirty seconds before they have to leave. That has to change. 

"So," he says. "The exorcism. Should I be making a run to get anything in particular for that?"

Tim pauses in chewing his breakfast. "No," he replies and clears his throat so that his voice gets stronger. "No, I think Constantine pretty well has us covered. Not sure what he told customs about all of it but he checked and nothing was confiscated." 

Kon starts going through the video of the school the previous night. Not a lot happened at all, except a brief flash of white and something he swears is the glint of a razor. Why would ghosts be haunting the halls when their graves were being robbed?

Which also makes him remember that Constantine spent the night with a bag of skulls in his room. Creepy. Maybe he should have brought them breakfast too. 

"It'll be great," Tim repeats. "Very educational. You'll see." 

"Can't wait," Kon responds. He sees Jason grin in the mirror. Obviously, he knows how disingenuous the statement is. Good to know that someone does, because Tim looks almost pleased. He's always sworn he would make a believer out of him yet. 

Kon's become a believer in Tim. But not how his partner initially hoped. 

~*~*~

They navigate good morning kisses when all of them are more awake. Teeth brushed, hair managed, mostly clothed. Somehow Jason captures Tim before he has pants on and that almost leads to them being late, but all together Kon is very satisfied with how the morning has gone.

"Shouldn't we be doing this shit at like the stroke of midnight?" Jason asks. "Call in a cult of witches? Wait for a new moon?"

"It's a coven of witches," Tim reminds him and sips his coffee. It shows progress that he's not gulping it down. "And there's far more room for error in any activity when you can't see what you're doing or are overtired. Like at the stroke of midnight." 

Constantine doesn't seem to take any offense at Tim answering the questions. He seems a little ill at ease this morning, particularly in regard to Jason. "Do we need cloaks? Armor?" Stephanie asks. "How are we doing this?" Which is the question on everyone's minds and she just cuts to the chase. 

"We go into the basement. We need to erase the binding spells and that’s most easily done where they were originally placed," Constantine explains. "The trick will be to get the spirits to attach themselves to their earthly remains when that’s done. Once their remains are back in the grave, they should be at peace." 

"We'll have to rebury the skulls, won't't we?” Tim says forlornly. Then something occurs to him. "Wait! That means we'll have like, haunted skulls until we put them back?"

Kon feels like he has to be the voice of reason. Again. "We are absolutely not keeping one." 

"Just a fragment? Can they haunt somewhere else if they’re --" 

"No!” He says more sternly and Stephanie starts to snicker. Tim kicks her and she scoots closer to Constantine. He sulks, but stays quiet. What are they, ten?

"I'll be doing most of the money shots, if you get my meaning,” the exorcist continues like he hadn’t been interrupted. “The hard part will be luring them to the right spot. They're smarter than we give 'em credit for. They probably know something is about to happen." He's puffing away at another cigarette. The man’s a regular chimney. “Jason’s demon mark can be used to keep them out of the basement while we set everything up. When we’re ready, your boy gets his ass outta there. The ghosts should flock right to us to see what we’ve done.”

"I'm more of a deflector shield," Jason says. "Apparently." Now he's being stared at, so he just shrugs like it's a daily occurrence for him to make _Star Wars_ references. "Hey, you said whatever was necessary and apparently my weird shit lightning rod status is going to help us out in this case. Besides, I’ll just be wandering around without my shirt on while you guys do whatever it is that needs doing. We already know they don’t like that.” 

Tim appraises the situation, crossing his arms loosely as he thinks. "That makes sense," he says eventually. “Better than you being bait too.”

Kon privately agrees. One less person to worry about. Now if only he could make a case for Blondie to not be involved, they’d be golden.

“But why does Jason have to leave?” Stephanie asks around her second breakfast sandwich. “If he covers up, he can stay and help, right?”

“He’s demon touched, that’s why.” Constantine casts his pale blue gaze at Jason a moment before returning to Tim.

By Jason's utterly unsurprised expression, it appears that Constantine has already discussed this with him. Still, Tim reacts accordingly. "What? Why? Jason's not a demon! He's-" 

"Demon touched," Constantine points out crisply. "It's nothin' personal. Just safer all around if your boy was away from it." 

"I really don't mind missing it," Jason adds in. "I can sit in the car and answer emails. I'm sure you'll let me know all about the spooky shit." 

Tim considers this before his one-track mind moves on. "Cameras?" he requests. 

"Probably won't work but you're welcome to try," Constantine agrees. "See to your physical needs because once we start this party, it won't be stopping." 

Jason skulks off to smoke his own cigarette. Probably to settle his nerves. Tim examines the exorcism kit with Constantine and Stephanie decides to walk around the parking lot. It’s hard to tell, but she looks a little nervous. Or excited. Even odds on either one really.

Kon trails after Jason. “I'm not sure I like the idea of what you're about to do,” he admits. He knows Jason has issues with agency and free will. He's waited to bring it up semi-privately because far be it for him to look like he's telling the man what to do. He's heard that doesn't go well. “It's a lot to ask. There has to be another way.”

Jason shrugs, pulling smoke into his lungs before blowing it out. He makes a face afterward; it turns out cigarettes aren't nearly as appealing when you're cutting down. Or maybe his butler dips them in something unpalatable. Kon wouldn't put it past him, and he's only met the man a handful of times. “This is the easiest way and the faster we finish, the faster we can leave,” he reasons. “Besides, it’s not like any of them are gonna get near me. I've done worse.”

Kon frowns because that's no logic for him to have to do worse now but Jason lightly bumps his shoulder against him. “I'm sure you and Tim will keep me safe. Even Blondie and Smokey the Bear over there.” He offers a smile. The one Kon thinks is fake, because it never quite reaches his eyes. “Really, what could go wrong?”

On cue, Stephanie gives a little shriek. They turn in unison and Kon's hand twitches toward his non-existent holster. Surely he can't be blamed for being a little jumpy with all that's been going on.

At first, he sees nothing. Then he realizes that Tim and Constantine have made it across the parking lot to the front doors of the school. Or they would have, had a very angry looking Harriet not been in their way. Her mouth open in a scream Kon can just barely hear and her tiny slippered foot stomps against the concrete she's standing on.

“None of that, love,” Constantine tells her. “We're comin' in with or without your say so.”

Kon is a little amazed the man can talk that casually to her. Then again, he probably has some defenses against her stunts. Harriet lifts her arms and then there’s something else in the air. Something that he soon realizes, judging by Tim's yelp, is dust and gravel. He's not sure which is worse; the fact the little girl is manifesting in such a violent way or the fact she feels driven to do so because she's afraid of what they’re about to do. He has to remind himself about eternal peace and that, surely, Harriet would want this were she in her rational mind. Kon certainly would.

His will has been altered a few times since he became Tim's partner. He thinks he might have to put in an addition about what to do if he starts haunting some place or even someone. Tim will probably try to keep him in a jar and draw a face on it according to his assumed emotions at the time.

Tim has his arms up to ward off any larger chunks of rock and to shield his eyes from the grit swirling around him. Stephanie has scampered to the side, out of the little dust cloud, and Constantine simply stands there with a disapproving expression.

Jason sighs and drops his cigarette, absently stubbing it out with the heel of his heavy boot. “Time to earn my keep,” he says and takes off his leather jacket, handing it over to Kon. He strides across the parking lot, his long legs eating up the short distance like it’s nothing, Kon trailing along behind him. Once he hits the sidewalk, he takes off his shirt, revealing his scarred chest. The shirt gets flung over his shoulder, hitting Kon square in the face. 

Harriet flinches like she’s been struck and the dirt and gravel drop to the ground like they’d never been airborne. She doesn’t disappear although she does back up closer to the doors. 

“ _Leave here,”_  her creepy voice echoes from all around them.  _“Leave and never come back.”_

“I don’t think so, poppet,” Constantine replies too damn casually. “You’ve had your fun and now it’s time to rest.” He gestures to Jason who obligingly walks closer. 

The little girl screams and disappears back into the school. The sound rings in Kon’s ears and he shakes his head in a vain attempt to clear it out.

“Wow,” Stephanie says as she comes up beside him. “So that’s what she sounds like.”

“I told you she has a voice,” Tim comments. He wipes his face to clear away some of the dirt, but it’s a rather weak attempt as he’s a mess. The brunt of the attack seems to have been directed at him. Not that he seems phased in the slightest about that, the dork.

 “Yeah, but you hadn’t heard it either,” his former fiancée retorts. “Just Jason and Kon.”

Tim opens his mouth, ready to argue, but Kon shushes him. “Just stop it,” he says shortly. “We’re here for a reason so let’s just get to it.” He wants this done. Over with. His whole logical and explainable world is coming apart at the seams and it’s all because of one little girl with a literal bloodcurdling smile. Chasing across the country with Tim in search of mermaids and Bigfoot is one thing, but exorcisms and ghosts are another. And demons. Can’t forget those. 

Constantine gives him an assessing look before he nods in agreement. “Come on then. There’s work to do.”

Tim nods, but makes sure to glare crossly at Kon. He’s not pleased with being treated like a child, but Kon can’t bring himself to care at the moment. If that’s how he wants to act, then that’s how he’ll treat him. Jason wants to stop by the library and alert Constance of the plan so she wouldn't be afraid of what’s coming. It's kind of touching. Or at least it is until he remembers that Constance Arkham has been dead almost a hundred odd years.

They unload all of the equipment from the back of Kon’s SUV. Some of it is packed in cases that give him the creeps as he hands it over, but some of it is much more mundane. Like the sandblaster, the sledgehammer, and what looks like a power saw. He looks them over and raises an eyebrow.

“They’re for removing the dry wall and sanding down the stone wall behind it,” Tim explains as he accepts the power tools.

The presence of something so normal helps calm Kon’s nerves. “I know what I’ll be doing then. Can’t trust you around a drill, let alone a saw.”

Jason snickers at the exchange. He’s put his jacket back on, but it’s hanging wide open, hiding nothing of the broad chest and muscles underneath. Steph has been staring and isn’t ashamed at all to be caught at it.

“I put that cabinet together just fine,” Tim protests as he hands the tools over to Jason. 

“With duct tape,” Kon retorts. That had been one of the most half-assed and ridiculous things he’s ever seen. Tim is no longer allowed to go to IKEA unsupervised. Stephanie agrees with him for once, although he suspects it’s because she wants to be there for the free entertainment. 

The trunk unloaded, Kon soon finds himself laden down like a pack mule as they approach the doors to the school. Jason is too to a certain extent but it’s whatever can be slung over his shoulders so that his chest stays revealed. But even Constantine is doing his part and is carrying a bag that he doesn’t want anyone else touching. 

They all stare at the doors in trepidation. _Something_ is waiting for them on the other side. They all know it. 

“I hope it’s just dodgeballs,” Tim mutters. 

“Do you think Harriet is strong enough to displace water from the pool?” Stephanie asks. She’s holding an old cardboard box that’s more packing tape than cardboard at this point.

Kon groans at that. “Don’t give her ideas.”

“Only one way to find out.” Constantine steps forward and pulls open one of the doors, making sure to keep his body behind it as he does. Smart move as Amadeus comes rushing out, wielding his axe again. 

“Shit!” Jason cries out, trying to evade the man who seems hell-bent on taking him out. 

But just like last time, the sight of Jason’s mark sends the ghost back into whatever nothingness he spends most of his time in, shrieking loudly just like his daughter. The axe clatters to the ground, shining dully in the weak morning light. 

Kon sucks in a breath of air he didn’t realize he needed. “Fuck,” he wheezes. “You okay, Jay?”

“Gimme a second for my heart to restart.” Jason looks a bit wild about the eyes but is otherwise fine. Tim pats him on the shoulder. 

Stephanie, however, is bouncing up and down in excitement. “That guy is just so creepy! It’s awesome!”

Kon and Jason exchange a look that clearly says she needs to have her head checked. 

Constantine opens the door wider and peeks in. “We seem to be in the clear, mates. Library and then on we go.”

Nothing stops them on the way to the library but Kon can’t help but feel like it’s the calm before the storm. The hair on the back of his neck tingles like it did when a tornado was bearing down on Smallville. 

There’s some debate about whether Jason should enter the room at the risk of scaring Constance (with all that glorious skin according to Steph) but Tim is quick to point out maybe she’ll help with something he’s been wondering about. 

“What’s the effective range of Jason’s mark?” he asks in what seems like too reasonable of a tone. “Might be helpful if we knew that.”

Even Jason can’t argue with that logic. Upon entering the library, he zips up the jacket. 

“Constance?” Kon calls out quietly. Raising his voice in a library seems sacrilegious. “You here? We got a few things to run by you.”

Tim’s eyes are glued to the whiteboard. He’s already set down the equipment he got loaded down with earlier and has his phone out to record it. Constantine sits down in a beanbag chair, not letting go of his bag. Stephanie is already bouncing on her toes again. Definitely needs a brain scan but Kon will admit Connie is worth it. 

The usual marker uncaps itself and rises up into thin air. 

_I am here._

Jason heaves a sigh of relief, one that Kon sympathizes with. 

“Today’s the big day,” he says in a rush. “We’ve got everything we need to put you, Harriet, and Amadeus to rest.” 

The marker shakes hard in the air before it stills. 

 _Thank you_. It’s written in all capital letters in that beautiful script of hers. The emphasis is clear. _What do I need to do?_

The question proves just how smart Constance is. This isn’t going to be easy for anyone. 

Kon looks over at Constantine, hoping he’ll pick up the reins on this part. 

“Nothin’ much, love,” the exorcist replies easily. “If you can help keep your husband and daughter distracted while we take care of a few things downstairs, that’ll help. You’ll know when it’s time.” He hefts his bag in the direction of the whiteboard. “This will be waiting for you.”

And now Kon understands why Constantine doesn’t let anyone touch the bag. It’s full of _skulls_. He stares in horror because those are still something he’s not entirely comfortable with. 

Jason nudges him gently. “Think he knows which is which?”

“That is _not_ funny.” It’s really not. 

“I know, man. Relax. They’ll be back in the ground where they belong in a few hours.” Jason rubs reassuring circles between his shoulders. His hand is warm, Kon notes. He always runs warm. 

The marker starts writing again. _I will do my best. I am not strong compared to my Amadeus and Harriet._

“Whatever you can do will be a help,” Constantine replies reassuringly. “We’ve got a backup plan if you can’t. In fact, perhaps you can help us test it.” The exorcist explains a bit about Jason and his demon mark. Kon casts a quick look at Jason, but he seems indifferent to the basics being laid out to the dead woman.

 _Yes. I can feel it when he’s near, even if it’s covered up_.

“What does it feel like?” Tim finally chimes in. It’s obvious he’s all fired up over the chance to ask how a ghost _feels_ something. 

There’s an obvious hesitation before she replies. _It reminds me of smoke and the scent of sulfur. There is a burning sensation when Jason comes too close but it is tolerable when the mark is not visible._

As Constance writes, there’s a definite slump that grows in Jason’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I don’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t ask for this.”

_I know. You have a good heart. I can feel that too, which is why I will assist you with this endeavor. I want to help you._

Jason looks pained as he sets down his gear and heads to the doors. Kon tries to say something but the man waves him off. “Let’s just get this over with.”

There has to be a reason for why the man seems to shut out anyone who sees some value in him. Not what he would expect from a rich man's son. Tim, for a change, doesn’t push, but when Kon catches his eye, he can see that he's in agreement already, that this is not going to be hidden under the rug. Not like last night and the bomb that Jason and Tim had had sex before. That’s still niggling in the back of his mind and he’s determined to learn more, especially since it’s out in the open now. Jason has enough doubts in his life, he doesn’t need to doubt their belief in him. 

But right now there are more important things to worry about. Part of being an adult is powering through, isn't it? “Okay,” he says after a moment. “Are you ready, Constance?”

_I am. I will drop the marker when I am forced to leave this place. When I do, my protection will be gone as well._

Tim is intrigued by the statement, that much is obvious. “So when you’re exposed to the mark, you actually disappear? How long does it take before you can come back?”

Kon lets out a low whistle because this is a very important point they hadn’t considered. They _need_ the ghosts to come to them once Jason leaves. They can't keep them away indefinitely and will manage to exorcise them.

_I do not know, having never been experienced this before._

The living members of this little group exchange worried glances. Well, except for Constantine, but he is rubbing his chin as he thinks. “I think it’s a risk we’ll have to take, madam. Somehow, I doubt it’s more than a few hours, which would still work for us.”

Kon eyes the power tools on the floor by his feet. He’s doubly glad now that he wore his heavy work boots again, even if they’re still showing traces of grave soil. Jason’s boots match his (Tim’s sneakers really should be thrown out, but he’d only packed a pair of dressier loafers to wear with his suits), black smudged with crumbling brown flecks and smears. He’s positive he’ll be the one shouldering the brunt of the labor downstairs as Jason does his ghost deterrent routine. Sometimes it sucks being the big guy. His shoulders already ache from yesterday and he tries to remind himself that Tim’s knees are all kinds of bruised, even if he’s trying to hide it.

 _I am ready when you are._ Constance writes on the board. The marker caps itself and hovers, waiting.

“Thank you for doing this,” Tim says, remembering his manners for once. He backs up a few steps so he has a better view of both Jason and the whiteboard. “It’s about twenty feet from the door to the board. Take it at an even pace. One foot in front of the other.”

Jason obviously wants to be anywhere but here as he unzips his jacket and pulls it aside so his chest is mostly bare again. Everyone watches intently as he slowly walks towards the board and the floating marker.

At fifteen feet, the marker starts shaking. Kon can just imagine Constance there, doing her best to stand firm in the face of the approaching menace. At ten feet, the marker drops and Jason stops, but it slowly rises again.

“I fucking hate this,” Jason mutters. “I’m sorry, Constance. If this hurts you, please, just drop it now,” he says more loudly.

The marker stays where it is, quavering slightly in the air.

Kon hates this too. Connie is the good ghost. The _nice_ ghost. And here they are, hurting her. Do ghosts feel pain?

Heaving a massive sigh, Jason takes another step forward. Then another. Halfway through the third, the marker drops to the ground like a string had been cut.

Tim eyes the distance remaining. “I’d say about seven feet?”

“That makes no sense,” Stephanie says, confusion evident as she looks over at them. “Didn’t Amadeus get a lot closer? When you tried the salt and it didn’t work? Do ghosts have different ranges?”

“He had a running start,” Tim replies, ignoring the dig about the salt. He glances over at Jason who’s zipping up his jacket again. “Probably want to leave it open. With Constance gone, we’re fair game in here.”

Jason makes a face and unzips it again. “Fuck. This place is cold.”

“It is cold,” Constantine agrees as he stands up from his seat. He breathes out and they all see the vapor visible in the air.

Kon makes a point to stand closer to Jason. The cold is all too familiar. “They’re certainly not wasting any time, are they?” He looks around for creepy, semi-decapitated little girls.

“No,” Tim agrees and backs away from the board and moves towards Jason as well. “I don’t think we have a lot of time left.” He looks over at Constantine for confirmation.

The exorcist shakes his head in agreement. “We don’t. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve that’ll help, but we’d best not delay anymore.”

His statement is punctuated by the doors of the library blowing open, an icy wind enveloping the room, ripping books off shelves, overturning reading tables, and sending paper everywhere. Stephanie screams and rushes towards Jason, still clutching her almost box tightly.

The room is in chaos, all but for the small bubble of calm surrounding Jason, like the eye of the storm. But Constantine is outside of that barrier. Kon watches in horror as he just _stands_ there, looking for all the world like he’s out for a stroll on a mild day instead of in almost hurricane force winds. The only sign he gives that he’s even aware of the situation is the arm he’s raised up to protect his eyes.

“John!” Steph shouts and makes for the edge of the calm space. Since when are they on first name basis?

Tim grabs her arm and yanks her back. “He’ll be fine! He knows what he's doing!”

Kon and Jason exchange concerned looks over Tim’s head because they aren't so sure that's the truth and Kon stoops down to pick up his equipment and shoulder Jason’s too. He’ll make pack horse comments later. “Lead the way,” he says. He wants to huddle miserably by the man's side until all the scary shit goes away but that's not going to happen. There's nowhere to go but forward now.

Jason’s eyes are wide as saucers, but he bravely takes a step towards the exorcist, stopping abruptly when Constantine holds a hand up. It’s hard to tell, but Kon is pretty certain the man isn’t even looking at them.

He’s not. He’s looking up at the ceiling. “Harriet, luv, what would your mother say if she saw you doing this?” Constantine says to the small child floating almost angelically above them.

Kon looks up, not wanting to, but unable to stop himself because _she’s right there_ , hovering over his head, pressed against the ceiling panels. Jason’s range seems to be holding true for her too, but unlike her mother, Harriet just looks _pissed_.

_She’s not here now. You got rid of her. WHERE IS SHE?_

“Your mom’s still here!” Jason shouts finally, glaring up at the child ghost. “She’s just gone to rest for a few hours. The same thing happened to your dad the other day!”

 _Papa?_ Harriet’s little face twists in confusion. _You lie. Papa isn’t here. He left us. He didn’t save us!_

“Oh, fuck,” Tim breathes. “I didn’t see that coming. You?”

Kon shakes his head. “Nope. But it explains a lot, huh?”

“Yup.”

A little girl with obvious abandonment issues, one who lashes out at perceived threats, and tries her hardest to protect her mother, the only other ghost she seems to know is here. Kon would feel bad for her if she hadn't tried to murder him.

“But Harriet!” Stephanie tries, looking up at the ceiling and trying to appear harmless and reasonable. Not a bad approach, but Kon’s not sure if this is the right time for the jumper strategy. “Your father is here too! You, your mother, and your dad. He bound you all here. We just want to help so you can rest. As a family.”

Harriet shakes her head violently, a rather disturbing sight no one will forget anytime soon as it pretty much detaches in the process, the red of her neck contrasting darkly against her bright curls. _No. He left us to die. He left us ALONE!_

The winds increase and Constantine finally takes action. He says _something_ in a language that Kon can just barely hear, the words tickling in his brain as they’re somehow familiar, like he knew them once a long time ago.

The little girl shrieks and disappears. The winds stop and everything airborne drops to the ground. Kon lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, shoulders sagging, and surveys the mess. The bookshelves are empty, everything is just strewn about like a, well, hurricane had gone through the room. He makes a mental note to have Director Lance call in a cleaning crew because he’s pretty sure the school didn’t sign up for this when they asked for help.

But it’s Jason who sums it up nicely after looking around. He shakes his head, obviously not pleased because there’s damage to the books, that much is evident. “Connie’s gonna be _pissed_.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, time for the exorcism we've all been waiting for!

Kon and Tim trail a little behind the others as they head towards the main office. Not too far, because that’s just stupid and inviting trouble, but enough to have a quiet conversation.

“…family issues doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Tim is saying. He’s surprisingly calm considering what they’re about to do. To say that an exorcism is on his bucket list is putting it mildly. Kon kind of expected he’d be peeing his pants in joy like a tiny, overexcited puppy.

“What about Constance though?” Kon asks, shrugging his shoulders under his already heavy load to relieve some of the ache. Whatever they’re about to do in the basement is going to hurt and he’s definitely springing for a massage when this is over. “She seems to be aware of Amadeus on some level that Harriet isn’t.”

“Or maybe it’s just Harriet who doesn’t want to acknowledge her dad is here since he wasn’t there when she and Connie were killed. They say ghosts are caught in the day they died.” Tim at least is able to get more movement when he shrugs. He’s carrying another box and his usual messenger bag. Kon suspects this is all his own equipment though so he can record the exorcism.

God, when did this become his life?

“That’s a pretty legit point. You plan to on psychoanalyze her when she’s sucked into her skull to find out?” Because his partner will if he can.

Tim grins, the look in his eyes indicating he knows exactly what Kon’s thinking and not saying. “We’ll see.”

Up ahead, Constantine stops in front of the office door and uses a set of keys Kon didn’t know he had to unlock the door.

“Are those…?”

“The ones from Tom,” Tim replies. “My hands are full and he has massive pockets in that coat of his.”

How Tim knows this is not something Kon really wants an answer to. There’s enough going on today, some things just have to be left unquestioned. It’s how he plans to keep his sanity.

The office is devoid of any signs of life. While Kon takes a moment to look around and relive some bad high school memories, Constantine makes a beeline to the door that apparently leads down into the basement. There’s a light switch just inside the stairwell and, for once, the way before them is well lit. It’s a nice change, one that Jason seems to agree with.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” the big man says to the exorcist, arms crossed loosely over his bare chest. “About Connie. You said it would probably be a few hours before she can manifest again, right?”

Constantine nods. “That’s right.”

“Amadeus got whammied already today then. So that really only leaves Harriet to worry about.”

“That’s a really good point,” Stephanie chimes in. “Harriet seems like she knows what her boundaries are with you and just pushes around the outside.”

“It is,” Constantine agrees as he starts walking down the steps. “But it’s not really relevant at the moment. She’s powerful, yes. But she’s also a little kid and kids need naps before they can make trouble again.”

Tim snickers at that. “You put her down for a nap, didn’t you?”

The blonde man grins. “More or less. Come along, then. These ghosts aren’t going to exorcise themselves.”

Kon and Jason take up the rear, their balance more precarious under their loads. Something Jason said a minute ago is poking at his conscious. “If you want to back out, you can,” he says quietly to Jason. “It sounds like we’ll be ghost free for at least a couple more hours.” The fewer civilians that have to be involved with what’s already proving to be a dangerous endeavor, the better.

“Nice try, corn boy,” Jason replies. Kon doesn’t have to be looking at him to know he’s got that shit-eating grin on his face. Are his motives really that transparent? “I’ll stick it out until Constantine tells me to get lost, just like he planned.”

“Figured you’d say that, but I had to try.” It still irks him that he doesn’t have a clear idea of what this plan actually is. Demolition is involved, but that’s all he knows.

“Think of it this way. At least now you have someone to help you knock down a wall. I doubt Tim or Blondie would last more than a few swings and we both know Constantine won’t do shit until he has to.”

Kon chuckles ruefully. Truer words have never been spoken.

There’s another bank of light switches at the bottom of the staircase and Constantine flips them all on, fully illuminating the large room. It’s not as bad as Kon imagined it to be. The floor is polished cement, sure, but the walls are at least dry-walled and painted some neutral shade of taupe. He’s reminded of that line from _Ocean’s Eleven_ about taupe being soothing.

It’s not. Not really. Not now with what they’re about to do.

The basement is lined with file cabinets, shelves, empty desks and chairs, pretty much everything Kon can imagine a school needing some extra storage space for. There wasn’t much of an attempt made to do anything with the ceiling, so bare pipes run crisscross in their own twisted maze. Rows of florescent lights hang overhead, but even the harsh light they cast is welcome because the alternative is so much worse.

Yeah, he’s sleeping with a light on for a while after this.

Constantine and Tim lead the way across the floor, heading to the spot they’d found yesterday. Kon’s still not sure how the exorcist knows the blank wall he soon finds himself standing in front of is the place, but he does remember that Amadeus made an appearance, so he supposes X marks the spot. He remembers that Tim said this part of the room is older, but he can’t tell the difference as the drywall all looks the same.

“How is this the right place?” Kon finally breaks down and asks, dropping his equipment to the floor. His shoulders groan in relief. If they only knew what’s coming…

“Amadeus rushed right out of this wall when we were down here yesterday,” Tim replies. He’s already messing with his equipment, proving Kon’s theory that everything he brought is his own recording gear.

Jason snorts in disbelief. “So we’re basing this entire wrecking project on the fact that Dr. Looney Tunes came out of this wall to get his freak on yesterday?”

Stephanie snorts in laughter while Tim just looks put out. This is why Kon likes Jason so much. The other man vocalizes his thoughts so much more often than he does with Tim’s nonsense.

But Constantine steps forward, setting his bag of skulls down carefully on a desk and starts rummaging around in his pocket before he takes out what Kon thinks is a pack of cigarettes, but then he sees the familiar yellow packaging. He withdraws a stick of colored chalk and starts drawing lines on the wall. Tim curses quietly and pulls his phone out to record whatever it is the exorcist is doing.

A large square is soon drawn on the wall in bright pink chalk. It stands out against the taupe. The top line is a little off as Constantine can’t quite reach that high, but Kon would guess it’s about 8 feet high and another 8 feet wide.

“Everything in this space needs to come out,” the man announces when he finally steps back. The original ceiling is gone and the floor was probably dirt, so this is the only original wall we have to deal with.”

Tim lowers his phone in disappointment at the lack of anything exciting happening.

“How are you so sure?” Kon feels like he has to be the one to ask.

Constantine smirks. “Because I can sense it. Demon boy there probably can too if he concentrates.”

“Don’t call me that,” Jason warns, his face darkening. “I survived a demon attack. Not like I asked for it to mark me in ways no one can see.”

It’s pretty clear there’s a retort on the edge of Constantine’s tongue but he bites it back. “I can see it,” is what he says instead. “I bet there’s at least three or four others like me who can.”

“Yeah, and you’re all useless at getting rid of it.” Jason stalks off, tugging at his jacket.

Kon and Tim exchange looks, but neither make a move to go after him. Sometimes it’s better to let him blow off some steam first. This is a lesson they’ve both learned long before sex entered their equation and mentioning anything demon-related to Jason is more personal than anything else. Stephanie glares at them like they’re both crazy, sets down her box, and goes after him.

“She’ll have to learn eventually,” Kon says and eyes the wall again.

Drywall and probably some plaster will be easy enough to remove. However, there’s a good chance that there’s a layer of concrete behind it, concealing the original wall. A jackhammer would be best for getting rid of that (not to mention Jason’s help with holding the damn thing steady for the horizontal position), but he hadn’t seen one amongst the equipment Constantine and Stephanie bought yesterday while he, Tim, and Jason were digging up graves.

To be honest, he’s surprised they remembered gloves and safety goggles.

Kon puts these on while Constantine does exactly what he predicted earlier. The man grabs a chair and makes himself comfortable while Tim does his camera thing. Steph and Jason still aren’t back, so that leaves Kon to start breaking down the wall.

Fun. But he likes this. He likes something so grounded in reality. Something he can _do._ Stephanie may be just as accepting as Tim when it comes to the mystical things going on around them, but there’s one thing he’s got her beat at.

Construction.

He picks up the electric handsaw (a rather nice one too; what did Tim do, give them his credit card?) and looks around for an outlet as it’s readily apparent the battery hasn’t been charged yet. The closest one is about fifteen feet away. Kon riffles through a couple more bags from the hardware store and groans at what he doesn’t find.

“What is it, mate?” Constantine asks from his spot off to the side. His fingers are twitching but even he apparently has enough sense to not light a cigarette in a place that’s about to have all kinds of dust and god knows what else floating around in the air.

“I don’t see an extension cord.” He holds up the saw and lets the 6-foot cord dangle for emphasis.

“Can’t win them all.”

Kon wants to punch him. He stalks over to the outlet and plugs it in, but inside, he’s already mourning the lack of use from the nice piece of equipment that would have made his life so much easier.

Instead, he takes off his jacket, throws it in Tim’s general direction, and ignores the indignant squawk. He hefts the long-handled sledgehammer to get a feel for its weight and balance. Then, he squares off against the wall and swings. 

The sledge easily cracks through the drywall. There’s a firm jarring that indicates the presence of something more solid behind it so Kon adjusts his swing as he doesn’t want to hurt his arms and shoulders in the process. This is therapeutic in so many ways but that doesn’t mean he wants to hurt himself. He has a rhythm going as he swings back and forth but it doesn’t take long to do the damage he needs. Putting down the hammer, he starts ripping away at the drywall. 

Another pair of hands join him and Kon glances over to see Tim helping. He’s gloved and has eye protection on too. Shame there aren’t face masks but at least this building is new enough that asbestos isn’t a concern. He’ll probably still be coughing up dust for a month.

Tim gives him a small grin as he yanks hard at a piece of plaster. “You’re not letting me hit anything so I’ve got to do _something_. At least now you can’t say I’m totally useless.” 

Kon returns the grin with one of his own. Banter goes a long to ease his nerves. “You’re useless at anything resembling hard labor, city boy.”

“I resemble that remark,” Jason chimes in as he steps up to help as well. He’s not wearing his jacket but he’s got gloves and goggles on too. “Better try again.”

“Jay, you’re all gym muscle.” Not that Kon isn’t appreciative of it. At this point, muscle is muscle. 

“And you’re all corn-fed farm boy. All your missin’ is a piece of straw hangin’ from your mouth.” Jason winks as he says it, barely visible under the thin layer of dust that’s already accumulated on his goggles. 

From behind them, Kon hears Steph giggling. “Keep it up, guys. Don’t stop flirting on my account.”

“Go find a broom or something,” Tim calls back to her. “Or trash bags. We’ll need them.”

“Who died and made you the boss of me?” the blonde woman retorts but Kon catches her wandering off on her assignment. 

Between the three of them, and Stephanie helping to bag up the mess, the wall is bare of drywall and plaster in next to no time at all, even with the extra care they’re taking in not damaging the stone behind it. Because it is stone and not concrete that’s making up this wall. In a way, Kon is glad for it as that makes his job that much easier. Still, he and Jason are sweaty, dusty messes by the time they’re done while Tim isn’t that much better. 

“We just look better doing it,” Jason comments when they’re done, eying Tim and then him. 

Tim mutters something about gym rats as he stares at the wall. 

Kon has been trying to avoid looking at it. Certain things had started to become visible under the plaster, things that if he stares too long at them, his vision wavers and makes him off balance. His mind balks at what he sees, as these unknown signs and symbols should have no right to do what they’ve done, not in the logical and scientific world they supposedly live in. There’s no sign that cement has ever been poured in this part of the room, just over the floor. 

He tries to imagine a cell here. A cell where Amadeus was still alive and desperately clawing the walls in hopes of saving the souls of his wife and child, not realizing he’s damning them instead.

It doesn’t escape Kon’s notice that Jason is slowly backing away from the wall. “You okay?”

The man shakes his head. “That’s some weird shit and it’s makin’ my head feel all kinds of wonky. Like I wanna hurl and pick a fight at the same time.” He turns away abruptly, his dust-stained shoulders hunching in as he sucks in a deep breath.

“Then it’s time for you to go, mate,” Constantine says, finally standing from his cramped little chair where he’s sat quietly for the last hour and a half, _supervising_. “If just the sight of the spell is giving you strange ideas, then it’s time.”

Jason shakes his head again but Kon catches his arm. “Dude, it’s okay. You knew you’d have to leave us eventually.”

“Yeah but,” he trails off, looking over at Tim with concerned eyes. The shorter man hasn’t moved from his inspection of the old stone wall. It’s like nothing else exists for him at this moment.

“We’ll take care of him,” Stephanie promises, stepping up to Jason’s left side and setting aside the broom she’s been using to keep the dust and small pieces of drywall and plaster at bay. Not to mention the swats in the ass she’d randomly make to whoever was taking a breather from the sledgehammer. “He always gets weird around mystic symbols. And if you don’t know why, then I think that’s a story you both should hear from him when this is all over.”

Kon has an idea of what Tim’s best friend is hinting at but Jason apparently doesn’t have a clue if his puzzled look is any indication. They have a lot to talk about.

Steph pats his shoulder, making a face at the dust that rises from his bare skin. “Don’t worry, it’s not something that will break you up. But I think it’ll do wonders for explaining why Tim is the way he is.”

Jason nods, his face dirty and streaked from sweat. “Thanks.” His voice is hoarse from dust and suppressed emotion. Teal eyes dart over to Kon and before he knows it, he’s being pulled into one of those soul stealing kisses the man is so damn good at. But just as fast as it starts, it’s over. Kon’s lips are tingling. “Keep an eye on our boy,” he says quietly. 

This is something Kon has been doing for years. It’s second nature by now. “Always,” he promises. 

Jason nods, glances back at Tim again before walking over to the makeshift work table they set up to wipe his face and arms off with some paper towels Stephanie found earlier. He doesn’t put his shirt on but he picks up his jacket and starts heading to the stairs. 

“Say goodbye to Connie for me,” he says with a jaunty salute that does nothing to hide the slump of his shoulders.

Kon watches the man walk towards the stairs. He and Tim are going to have words about this later. Once again, his laser focus is hurting those around him. While Kon will easily admit to himself that he’s glad Jason has to leave them for safer grounds, he’s not so callous as to disregard how much the man wants to help and is worried for all of them. 

“Dumbass,” he mutters and glares at Tim. He and Constantine are closely inspecting the wall, even going so far as to use a packet of wet wipes to clean out cracks and crevices. Kon glares harder because he really would like some of those. His skin is starting to itch. 

“He sure is,” Stephanie agrees with him. “Do you want to swat him upside the head first or should I?”

“You do it,” Kon decides. “I might just knock him out if I do.” Usually he’s not so hostile, but it’s been a backbreaking couple of hours already. Hell, it’s been a rough week altogether.

“At least Jason got some love from one of you idiots,” the young woman grumbles as she picks up her broom, her grip down at the head of the broom rather than the top. “You guys look so hot together.” 

Kon wisely keeps his mouth shut and enjoys the loud, indignant shout from Tim when Stephanie uses the broom handle to hit his bruised knees. His partner drops to one knee, groans, and then twists around to glare harshly at them both. “What the hell?” 

Stephanie doesn’t say a word but points at Jason, who’s paused on his way up the stairs at Tim’s shout to see what’s going on. 

Tim is obviously puzzled for a moment before it sinks in.  “Shit.” He stumbles to his feet and staggers a few steps before momentum sends him on his way. 

“Better late than never,” Stephanie says when she returns to Kon’s side. She was probably a dog trainer in another life. Now she’s a Tim-trainer.

Kon shrugs at that while he watches the two men speak across the room. He’s not so sure but bites his tongue. Tim’s brand of crazy isn’t for everyone and while Jason knows this, he doesn’t really _know_ Tim, not like he and Steph do. Hell, even that’s up for debate considering some of the bombs that have been dropped the last couple days. This case has certainly been an eye opening experience, in more ways than one. How things will turn out when it’s over, well, it’s not going to be easy. He thought he knew Tim Drake better than anyone. He’s starting to realize no one really knows all the pieces of his partner. Even the blonde woman standing next to him.

At least the sex is good. But Kon is a firm believer in honesty in a relationship and there’s just too many secrets floating around to make him entirely comfortable. Jason tries, he really does, but Tim is their linchpin, the one they both focus on over the other. Or so it’s always been until the other night when Jason offered himself up to help him through one of the most traumatic experiences of his life. 

That’s not something Kon will ever forget and it’s also a favor he’s bound and determined to return with interest when the opportunity arises. 

“Hey, Kent,” Constantine calls out, catching Kon’s attention. “C’mere a second, would ya?” 

The last thing Kon wants to do is approach that wall but he also doesn’t want to watch Tim and Jason kiss on the stairs either. They need their privacy. He picks up his gloves and walks back to the wall. Constantine is kneeling on the floor and rubbing at a low spot. Kon keeps his eyes on him rather than the creepy wall. 

“So here’s what I want to do next,” the man says. Kon rolls his eyes because as far as he’s concerned, the exorcist hasn’t done anything. “One is those fancy tools we got is a sandblaster. We’re going to use that and grind out the spell.”

“Sounds too practical,” Kon can’t help but comment. He also wishes he’d plugged that tool in to charge the battery as well. 

Constantine laughs at that and stands, wiping dusty hands on his pants. “Two parts logic and one part magic. Your partner seems to think it’s the other way around.”

“Well, he does spend too much time online in weird chat rooms.”

“Go plug your toy in. I have a few more things to do here.”

Kon doesn’t have to be told twice. He finds the sanding tool and plugs it in. Mundane and ordinary, these are the tasks he likes. They’re ones he understands and they help to keep him grounded in the swirl of _what the fuck_ going on around him. 

He returns to the little staging area just as Tim comes back. His lips are a little swollen so that had to be some kiss from Jason. Definitely some nibbling happening there. 

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes to Kon, rubbing his head sheepishly. “I’m so used to it being just us out in the field.”

Kon gets it. He really does. “Me too. But it’s not me you need to apologize to.”

Tim nods and shares a glance with Stephanie. Words pass between them in a way that makes so much more sense now. “I owe you one too. A big one,” he says, his attention back on Kon. 

“Perhaps, but now isn’t the time or place.” Kon reaches out and ruffles his partner’s already messy hair. Not that he looks much better. All the dust makes him as pale as a ghost. 

Okay, bad comparison in the face of what they’re doing. 

The smile Tim gives him is blinding and reminds him of why he started falling for the man in the first place. “Later then,” he promises. “Perhaps in my apartment in Gotham tonight?”

“It’s a plan.” Tim’s apartment has plenty of hot water and a shower he absolutely loves. 

They settle back against the table and watch Constantine do his thing, Steph worming her way in between them. 

“What is he doing?” Kon asks after a few minutes of watching the man. He looks like he’s washing the wall. There are a few gallon jugs of water that he’s been using, along with a spray bottle he keeps refilling. 

“He’s purifying it,” Tim explains. He’s been intently watching the entire thing like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. His cameras are already angled to catch the best vantage points of anything that could happen, so all he has to do is stand and absorb like a sponge. 

“With holy water?” Kon can’t help but ask the obvious question. “Where’d he get that?”

Stephanie is the one who answers. “Yesterday evening while you guys were having hot sex, we borrowed your SUV and went to a dingy little church in Gotham that John said is probably the holiest place in this part of the country. The priest seemed to know him on sight and didn’t even question why he needed a dozen gallons of water blessed.”

Kon stares at her in astonishment. “You drove all the way to Gotham and back last night? In my _car?_ ” How did he not notice his keys were missing? He had them this morning when he went out to get breakfast and the door was still barricaded when he got up?

“Yup!” Steph chirps proudly. “I even convinced him not to smoke in it, so you’re welcome.”

“How’d you do that?” Tim asks curiously. 

The blonde shakes her head. “A gal has to have _some_ secrets.”

“You totally showed him your boobs, didn’t you?” Tim accuses. He and Steph go back and forth, bickering lightly, but Kon tunes them out. He really doesn’t want to think about it much more so he goes back to watching Constantine do something useful and wonder how using the sandblaster on a damp stone wall is going to work. He’s used a wood sander many times before, both on the farm and in shop class, but the blaster is different. Really makes him wish he had something to put over his mouth too. It’s probably time to rip his shirt. 

Yet another piece of clothing lost to a case.

As Constantine works his way up and down the bared wall with his spray bottle, Kon finally picks up on the fact that the man is muttering something. Now that his attention is captured by it, he picks out the same phrases repeating themselves. It sounds like Latin, but he’s not entirely sure. The last time he heard anything like that was last year when he and Tim rescued Jason. There’s a rhythmic, almost hypnotic quality to the words, but rather than send shivers down his spine like that massive clusterfuck still does (Kon’s no stranger to nightmares where they didn’t get to Jason in time, that the demon carved him up and butchered him like so much meat, leaving just his face behind, lips split wide in a rictus grin that shows his teeth back to his jawbone), he feels calm. Relaxed. If anything, it reminds him of a lullaby.

A lullaby for ghosts. Now there’s a thought.

Soon enough, the exorcist is done, the last of the carvings etched into the stone just barely over his head shining darkly under the liberal spritzing of holy water. Kon’s caught a few comments from Tim over how none of this is how he imagined it to be while Stephanie comes back with how this is an exorcism of the modern era. That and how John favors practicality over theatricality. He doesn’t want to know how she and Constantine have gotten on first name basis. He really doesn’t. If he tells her he doesn’t want to know, he’s sure he’ll hear the story anyway.

The blonde man in the trenchcoat waves them over. Tim practically falls over himself in his eagerness, with Steph hot on his heels. Kon follows more slowly, eyeing the wall warily. The carvings and symbols still make his eyes swim but the effect isn’t as bad as it was before.

“It’s time for the fun to begin,” he announces, putting his spray bottle into one of his many pockets.

“Yay, more hard labor,” Kon deadpans because who else around here can be trusted with power tools? Probably Stephanie as she’s proven more than a few times to be handier than she comes across as being.

Constantine ignores him and continues. “I’ve purified the wall to the best of my abilities, but I can already tell that’s not enough. Amadeus and Harriet are already stirring, but I can’t sense Constance yet, so while Kent here is working on that wall, the three of us will need to keep this area clear for him to work.”

Tim’s eyes grow wide. “How? I assume you’re not putting them back to sleep again like you did Harriet earlier.”

The exorcist shakes his head. “No. That puts them out of commission for a while and I doubt any of us want to linger here after the sun goes down.”

“No thanks,” Stephanie replies. “I’d rather spend the night in the cemetery.”

“It’d be safer.” Constantine winks at her. “Anyhow, while Kent does his thing, the three of us will be fending off whatever Amadeus and Harriet will throw at us. As each seal is broken, the ghosts should grow weaker. The one I’m concerned most about is Harriet. That little poppet is much more powerful than her parents.”

Kon feels like he should raise his hand for permission to speak and finds himself with it halfway up before he stops himself. “Earlier, Harriet acted like she didn’t even know Amadeus is here. Assuming that’s true, there’s not going to be any coordination between their actions.”

Tim nods in agreement. “Makes them more unpredictable, but it may be something we can use against them.”

“It’s possible,” Constantine agrees. “We’ll have to take it as it comes. Their target will ultimately be Kent, so just keep that in mind. I’ve drawn a circle of protection but physical objects can still get through.”

At no time this morning did Kon think he wouldn’t be a target of a ghost attack today, but knowing that he’s the one who’ll bear the brunt of their focus is enough to make him wish he hadn’t gotten out of bed. Too late to turn back now. He sighs and heads back to the worktable, taking off his dusty flannel to get at his undershirt.

“Here, let me help,” Stephanie says as she comes up next to him and grabs a pair of scissors. “You’ll need a mask. I’m sorry I forgot to buy those yesterday.”

“You remembered the eye protection and the gloves,” Kon tries to give her some credit. He watches her cut up his t-shirt. It’s not until she’s done that he notices his hands are shaking slightly.

Steph apparently realizes the same. “You’ll be fine. John, Tim, and I got your back.”

Kon tries to smile, but it fails. “No offense, but Tim’s the only one I trust there.”

“None taken. He feels the same about you.” She hands him the makeshift mask, more of a bandana really, and he ties it around the lower half of his face, putting his goggles back on next, and then his gloves.

Stephanie laughs at him, her face lighting up in good humor. “You look like a bandit, Mr. FBI Agent.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Yeah, well, look what I found for you when you were getting all hot and sweaty earlier.” She leans over the table and picks up an extension cord from a pile of bags on the floor.

“The fuck?” Kon swears, glowering at the unoffending cord. “Constantine said you guys didn’t buy one.”

“He lied.” Stephanie hands it to him.

“Asshole.”

“He kinda is, but at least now you don’t have to keep stopping in the middle of your work to recharge the battery.”

Kon keeps his mouth shut because she totally knew it was there earlier too and didn’t say anything. Stephanie laughs some more and hands him some earplugs that she pulls out of another bag.

“You’ll need these.”

He accepts them, puts his flannel back on, and rolls the sleeves back up. A moment later, he has the sandblaster and all of its parts in hand as he wants to take a good look at it before he gets started. The device is a handheld one, but it does have the ability to grind out stone if the PSI is high enough. The scratches in the wall Amadeus made in his madness aren’t super deep, but there’s a lot of them, so he needs to make sure he doesn’t run out of pressurized air or the sanding grit. Luckily, Constantine and Stephanie thought ahead here and he’s got plenty of both from the hardware store. It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if Stephanie went right up to the counter and explained what they needed. She’s more thorough than he’s given her credit for.

He doesn’t pay much attention to what the others are doing around him as he hooks things up, but he does jump when Tim lays a hand on his shoulder. He grins, a delighted expression passing over his face, as it’s not often he’s able to get a leg up on Kon and they both know it.

“We’re ready when you are,” he says quietly. It’s too quiet for the excitement Kon knows his partner should be feeling right now.

“Just waiting on the signal,” he replies, holding up the sanding tool. “You all right? Seem kinda subdued. This is one of your dreams come true; I thought you’d be bouncing off the walls like a sugared up kid.”

Tim shrugs ever so slightly. “I am, but I just spend the last five minutes listening to everything that could happen to you and now I’m worried.”

For Tim to admit that, he really must be. Kon sets the tool down and raises his goggles. “I’ll be fine. You’ve got my back, right?”

There’s that crooked little smile he loves. “Always.” Tim chuckles and pokes him in the nose. “I’d kiss you, but I have a rule against making out with bandits.”

Kon pulls down his makeshift mask. “Why’s that?”

Tim rises up on his toes. “Because they always steal my heart.”

“And you say _my_ jokes are corny,” Kon laughs, but he closes the short distance between them and captures Tim’s lips with his own. There’s a hint of desperation to it, like this may be the last one for a while as the shit is undoubtedly going to hit the fan as soon as he gets started. Kon wishes he didn’t have gloves on, that he could feel the fine strands of Tim’s black hair under his fingers, but it’s too late now and that’s Tim pulling back, his pale eyes shimmering with some suppressed emotion.

“Be careful.”

“That’s usually my line,” Kon tries to joke, but it falls flat. He raises his bandana back over his mouth and nose and lowers his goggles back into place.

It’s time. No more stalling. Kon walks over to the wall with his equipment, the extra pieces and refills in bags by his feet.

“Start at the bottom and go left to right, working your way up,” the exorcist tells him. “Stop only when you have to, and don’t worry about us. The faster this is done, the easier it’ll be later.”

Kon nods and kneels down onto the hard floor. The cement is cold, a fact he picks up on immediately. When this is over, he’s got a date with a hot shower where the water doesn’t get cold. Boyfriends are completely optional. Maybe the hot water heater will be his boyfriend. It would certainly be less trouble.

The carvings dance under his eyes, making his stomach lurch, but Kon puts his ear plugs in, glad Steph got the gel kind instead of the hard plastic, and turns on the sandblaster. Almost immediately, he picks up on something going on behind him, but it’s buried under the sound of the power tool. The plugs in his ears help, but he’s certain he’ll be nursing a massive headache later. He concentrates on the task at hand and slowly, carefully, uses a combination of air and fine grit to sand away the symbols Amadeus etched into this remaining wall of his cell. They’re shallow, especially the ones down low where the angle is off kilter, but he tries not to focus on them too closely lest he get sucked in by whatever power is here.

He has what he’s calling the first row done sooner than he expects.

As he moves up to the second row, he has to shift around, his knees aching from the prolonged position. There’s a sex joke in there somewhere, he’s sure of it, but out of the corner of his eye, Kon catches sight of something that makes his stomach lurch.

Outside of his little protective circle, the basement is in chaos. Desks and chairs have been flung all over the place, filing cabinets overturned with papers flying all over the place like a flock of birds. It’s similar to the mess in the library, so it’s a sure sign that Harriet is present. Tim is shouting and waving something Kon can’t quite make out through the flurry of shredded paper (he sure hopes the school really didn’t need those files) and then he picks up on Stephanie screaming on his other side, but it sounds more like a battle cry than from pure terror.

“Keep moving, Kent!” Constantine shouts at him, jarring Kon back into reality and his task. He’s not sure how he heard the words, or if he read his lips, but it makes him focus.

Kon sucks in a deep breath and gets back to work.

About halfway through the second row, he has to stop and swap out the air canister and reload the grit. He’s glad now that he brought the extras with him, but he’s positive that if he hadn’t then Constantine would have. For all his perceived laziness, the man seems to be on top of things, even if they aren’t done the way Tim seems to think they should be.

Perhaps he’ll buy the man a beer when this is all over.

Kon is almost done with the third row when something hits him in the back. His head jerks up and there’s Harriet, not even a foot away, her little slippers centimeters from the edge of the chalk boundary. Her doll-like appearance is marred by the rage emanating off her in waves.

_STOP THIS! I don’t want to die!_

“Harriet, you’re already dead,” Kon says as calmly as he can while he continues blasting away her father’s spell. The ear plugs do nothing to stop her eerie voice. It’s bizarre hearing her so clearly and having his own voice muted. “I’m sorry but we can’t change that.”

 _Stop! Stop! Stop!_ Each shout is punctuated by the stomp of a little foot. It would be kind of cute if the raw wound in her throat wasn’t right in front of his face. Evidence of the brutal way she died (through no fault of her own) and what she’s become.

Kon doesn’t stop and moves up to the fourth row. He knows the air canister will run out any moment, but he keeps going, blasting methodically and with intent, grinding out parts of the spell. These next few rows are the most densely packed with carvings as they were the most readily accessible by Amadeus.

He kind of hopes the little ghost will get bored and go away. Harriet is very much someone he doesn’t want to see or even think about. When he finally has to stop to change the air canister again and reload the grit, the ghost has floated up to the top of the wall and stares down at him, her eyes wide and black as coal. No such luck then.

Her father must be keeping Tim and the others busy, but Kon has faith in Constantine’s chalk. He has to as it’s pretty clear to him that the little girl is testing the boundaries of it, looking for a weakness.

The air around him is freezing, the cold sapping away at his body and wearing him down faster. Kon wishes fervently that Jason were here, even if only for the constant warmth his body radiates. Perhaps Jason will be allowed in the shower with him tonight, holding him tight while the warm water pounds on his shoulders and runs down his back. He’s developing a fetish for heat and doesn’t care.

Harriet starts speaking again. _If you stop, I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be like an angel._ She’s apparently changing tactics. Smart girl.

“You’ll be playing with angels soon enough,” Kon says and keeps going. He has to blink more often here, move his eyes away from the wall and the sheer insanity carved into it. Whatever this is, he’s becoming more and more convinced that this is what drove Amadeus crazy. He hopes that whatever book the doctor pulled this out of has long since been destroyed. This is for Harriet, he reminds himself. For Constance. Amadeus he really can’t find it in himself to give a shit about since he’s the one who put them in this situation in the first place.

The little girl doesn’t like this answer and she _screams_ , her mouth and her throat making sounds that no human ever should. He wonders if this is what a banshee sounds like and then decides he won’t question it later as that’s acknowledging those myths exist and he’s having a hard enough time with ghosts at the moment. A ghost who’s trying her hardest to blast his ear drums out.

“Knock it off, Harriet!” Tim shouts from off to Kon’s left like she’s any other annoying child pitching a fit in front of him. He looks up just in time to see his partner use a supersoaker to shoot water at the little ghost. She hisses and disappears into the wall over their heads.

Kon blinks because _really?_ They’re using water guns to hold off the ghosts?

Tim grins and holds his toy up proudly. “It’s filled with holy water. They’re awesome!”

“You guys are fucking insane,” is all Kon can come up with at the moment. He’s feeling a bit dizzy from the scream. Or perhaps it’s the spell. He shakes his head and gets back to work.

On the fifth row, Kon is finally able to stand and his aching knees groan in protest. He’s been at this what feels like forever now, but progress has been made and there’s only two more rows after this. The wall may be eight feet high, but Amadeus’s arms couldn’t reach that far. Small mercies, at this point.

There are still shouts behind him and the random _thunk_ as something hits the floor, but as Kon moves up to the sixth row after what feels like forever, the madness seems like it starts to settle down. It’s hard to tell though as his ears are ringing badly now, between the constant sound from the handheld sandblaster and Harriet’s scream from earlier, even with the buds in his ears.

He’s at the end of the sixth row when Harriet finally finds her way into the circle. Kon has a moment to absorb that she’s there before he sees the smudged line of chalk from where the power cord has been rubbing away at it all this time.

Shit.

She comes out of nowhere, literally, and wraps her little hands around Kon’s arm, just above where his wrist disappears into the heavy leather work gloves.

Kon screams because her hands are like ice. Worse than ice. It reminds him of when he fell through the ice on the pond his first winter in Kansas. The water wasn’t over his head, thank God, but those seconds it took for his feet to find the bottom and rise to the surface felt like a lifetime, as was the time it took Uncle Jon and Clark to find him and drag him out once they realized he wasn’t behind them anymore.

But rather than have that pain spread all over his body, it’s all concentrated in that one spot, Harriet’s grip _burning_ with how cold it is.

He drops the sandblaster and the lack of sound cuts through the ringing in his hears. There’s shouting going on around him, but Harriet is pressed up against him now, her little body sucking the warmth from his once again. She hisses and spits like a pissed off cat at the torrent of holy water that hits her, but she doesn’t let go.

 _YOU WILL STOP NOW!_ she screams and that’s her banshee voice again. He can feel every hard line of her body, like it’s turning to stone and she’s taking him with her.

Kon falls to his knees, trying to support himself against the clean wall so he doesn’t go completely down. You don’t want to give an enemy an advantage like that and, at this moment, Harriet is very much the enemy. Through the dust on his goggles, he can just barely make out Constantine. He’s shouting, but Kon can’t make out the words. He’s shaking like a leaf now, and it’s a fight to keep awake against the black spots that are starting to crowd his vision. His blood feels like it’s rushing to those points on his arms. It’s like Harriet is taking _everything_ from him. Even memories of warmth are leeched away. He wonders if she’s doing to him what she things they’re planning to do to her. There was no doubt in his mind that her death was painful but he wonders if it hurts more to be put to rest.

Rest. Rest sounds good right now.

He feels the rush of wind, warm and brisk, against his skin and suddenly Harriet isn’t there anymore. Kon collapses to the floor, clutching his arm against his chest in a feeble attempt to keep it from any more harm. It feels like she broke it and he glances at it in desperation, looking for white bone breaking his skin, but it’s not there.

Someone kneels in front of him and his goggles are ripped away, followed quickly by his makeshift mask. Blinking weakly, Kon makes out a halo of yellow, long blonde hair falling over Stephanie’s shoulder in a messy braid. She’s covered in dust, and she’s got several small cuts on her face that are slowly oozing blood.

“Look at me, Kon,” she says sternly, snapping her fingers in front of his nose to get his attention when it starts to wander and his eyes try to shut. “Stay with me. Connie finally reappeared. I think John called to her there at the end to take out Harriet.” She talks quickly as she helps him sit upright, his back against the wall he’s spent what feels like hours working on. Has it been that long? He has absolutely no idea. “He’s performing the exorcism right now. Tim’s got the skulls. They were able to snag Amadeus almost as soon as you reached the top part of the wall.”

“Is that…why…she got me?” Kon fights to ask through the pain. His body can only take so much and two hugs from Harriet over three days is more than enough for it to say enough’s enough. But they have Amadeus. Yay for them.

“Yeah,” Stephanie says. She runs a wet wipe over his head and then presses something against it. “I’m sorry, Kon. As soon as we saw her, Tim threw Amadeus’ skull to me and started pelting Harriet for all he was worth with his water gun. It just didn’t work. She was too connected to you. I don’t know what happened there for a little bit because Amadeus got me with his razer, but as soon as he was trapped in his skull, John ran to help Tim save you.”

Her voice chokes up as she slowly maneuvers Kon’s arm into view. “Oh Kon,” she breathes, using that hushed, reserved voice like Aunt Martha uses when she’s found out something terrible. That can’t be good. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get you to a hospital and warm you up.”

Kon doesn’t want to look down at his arm. He already knows it’s bad. His entire arm is numb and he can’t even move his fingers. It’s not a compound fracture though and that’s all he needs at the moment. But there’s one thing he desperately wants to know right now. “Tim? He okay?”

“I think so,” Steph is quick to reassure him. “Amadeus sliced him up with his razer a little before John finally got him wrangled, but he’s still on his feet. He’ll need some stitches and tetanus shot.”

There’s another loud scream from behind Stephanie and she turns enough to look at the source of it that Kon can see over her shoulder. Tim and Constantine are standing about ten feet away, and Harriet is doing her damnedest to fight against the drag of whatever it is the exorcist is doing to send her into the skull that Tim’s holding. Kon would swear that the eye sockets are glowing, casting a yellow light on the little ghost.

But it’s the sight of blood streaming down his partner’s pale face that catches his attention more. He tries to stand. He has to get to Tim. He has to help him because no one else has his back.

Stephanie returns her attention to him and pushes him down. Too weak to fight it, Kon rests against the wall. The spots in his vision grow even as he tries to stay focused on his partner, like he can _will_ him to be alright.

_Rest now, Conner. I thank you for your brave efforts in helping me and my family._

Kon blearily opens eyes he doesn’t realize he’s shut to see an angel standing next to him. She smiles and kneels down, running a cool finger over his cheek. She’s beautiful, with curls floating around her that are far darker than Harriet’s. That’s comforting.

_Rest now._

Sleep sounds like a great idea. Who’s he to argue with an angel?

 


	13. Chapter 13

His head hits something solid, and it's a rude awakening. "Careful!" Stephanie snaps and Kon scrunches his face, wanting to protest that he is being careful and he's the wronged party. At least until he realizes she's yelling at Tim.  

"He weighs like a hundred pounds more than I do," Tim grunts out. "You should have let me go up the stairs first, Constantine." Is that what's happening? Kon's eyes flutter open and he realizes he's moving. Being carried, actually, and his body feels so cold and heavy that he wonders if he's dead for a split second. Then pain flares back to life in his arm and the events of the past hours (days, hell, the past years of his life since he met Tim) come flooding back to him. 

"Can walk," he mutters, but that just sets his teeth to chattering again. He clenches his jaw shut, ignoring the pain there. 

Stephanie's dirty face swims into his vision. "No, shivering is good, Kon. Keep shivering if you can." Like it's something he has a choice in. He realizes that Constantine is shouldering most of his weight, but Tim is under his opposite arm to keep him supported. Stephanie has his injured arm pressed tightly to Tim's back to keep it stationary. 

He wants to go back to sleep. It hurts less there, and it's warmer. But he wants to stay awake. He wants to know what's happening, to him, to Tim whose face is covered in blood. To Stephanie who is limping along with them. Apparently his body can't decide either, because Kon feels like he blinks and he's outside in the fresh air and fading sunlight, with Jason hovering in his vision. "Shit," the man swears. "What the fuck happened down there?"

"Kon needs a hospital," Tim says like blood isn't running down his face like a river, soaking into his shirt. Stephanie is already ripping open the first aid kit, pressing a cloth into Tim's hand and then moving his arm so he'll hold it against his face. Wait, how is he standing? Kon realizes he's sitting, in the back seat of his own SUV. That explains the first aid kit. "Mercy Hospital is closest?" 

"Mercy's a death trap," Stephanie shoots back. "Malpractice and MRSA cases through the roof. Millennium is five minutes from Mercy and private." Kon is trying to absorb this information, because he feels like he should have a say, but he can't even process it. It's, weirdly, Constantine who is fussing over him, tucking blankets around him and throwing disposable hand warmers in between the layers. "Jason, get Kon buckled in. See if he can drink something warm. No alcohol. No caffeine." 

He's impressed. Steph is giving orders like she was born to it and she absolutely seems to know what she's doing. He wants to compliment her. Tease her about being bossy. He can't form words, only blinking dully at Jason when he drags him to the far door to start the process of putting a seatbelt on him. "Fuck you," Jason hisses. "Fuck you and Tim both. Fuck you and your stupid hair-brained schemes and your shitty exorcist who did nothing-" 

"Hey!" Constantine protests. "Hardly the time or the place." 

"Don't rub his arms or legs," Stephanie cuts in. "Just his torso. Warming up his limbs first can cause a heart arrhythmia. Give him sips of something warm and crank up the heat." Kon can incline his head just enough to see her wiping Tim's face to survey the damage. Tim keeps trying to pull away, to walk toward him, and she patiently guides him back. 

Kon's eyes meet Tim's. The blue looks even brighter under the coating of blood. "Okay?" He mouths, or thinks he mouths. The sentiment must get across because Tim nods sharply and he can see teeth sink into his lip. One of the few tells that Tim has emotions and is holding them back. 

Jason's fingers guide him to look at the taller man and Tim suddenly is in the car beside him. Another missed beat of time and sliding in and out of awareness like this can't be good for him. "I have to go finish this up," Jason says slowly, clearly seeking comprehension in Kon's face. "Steph's gonna drive you to the hospital. I'll be right behind you." He looks stricken and Kon scrambles to think of something to say. Anything to say to reassure Jason that it's alright. He wants him to stay here. He wants him putting Constance and even Harriet back to rest. 

But it clicks in his mind. The back seat of a car. Tim coated in blood. All their positions are reversed, but..."Familiar," Kon says and he feels accomplished he's not slurring his words, even if they come out trembling a bit. "For us," he clarifies when both Tim and Jason look at him like he's crazy. 

Tim gets it first, letting out a bark of laughter that is near hysteria. "It is," he agrees. He leans over Kon to give Jason a quick peck and Jason reciprocates before brushing his mouth against Kon's. "Get things taken care of and we'll see you soon."  

Jason nods, kissing Kon's temple before he shuts the door. Steph is already in the driver's seat, adjusting mirrors which Kon is pretty sure means she's going to floor it all the way to the hospital. He's, fortunately, in and out of awareness for that. He doesn't want to look at Tim's bloodied face, so he looks at his fingers, curled around Kon's good hand. The one that has feeling. Every so often, Stephanie asks him a question. No, neither of them are asleep. Kon's still breathing shallowly but regularly. It's almost strange, being so detached from what's going on. From his body, even. Is this what it's like to be a ghost? No wonder Harriet was so pissed off. 

He spares a thought to his SUV when the tires squeal as Stephanie gets them to the hospital. Tim's fingers are linked in his and he doesn't want to let go. Can't they treat them in the same room? But Tim is the one untangling their hands, though he looks reluctant. Stephanie stops between them, frowning. 

"Go with him," Tim tells her instantly. "I'm fine, okay, Kon? Just a few stitches and I'll be right back." But they both know how these things go and it's probably going to be a few hours. 

"I think he has hypothermia" Stephanie informs the staff who are retrieving him, ushering Tim into a wheelchair and Kon onto a stretcher. He doesn't want to uncurl, doesn't want to lose the warm blankets around him even though he knows the weather is fairly mild. "He has a bad case of frostbite on his arm, too." 

"Frostbite?" One of the intake nurses questions. "How in the world did he get frostbite at this time of year in this weather?" 

It's a sadly valid question but apparently Steph has had time to think. "They're FBI agents and you don't have the clearance for that information to be released." And, damn, the girl is good. Kon is appreciative of it because he doesn't want either one of them to end up with a mandatory psychiatric hold because they start ranting about ghosts with razors and icy little hands.  

"Not hurt?" Kon asks Stephanie because she's starting to limp even more as they get inside the hospital. It's hard to keep track of her with strangers around them. One is trying to nudge a thermometer in his ear and another is taking away his blankets.  

"Don't worry about me, you idiot," Stephanie answers gently. 

There's another woman in scrubs trying to catch his attention. "Do you have a living will, Mr. Kent? Any advance directives for your medical care? Does anyone have a medical POA on you?" Which, he'll have to remember her bedside manner, because his arm is starting to hurt a lot and her bedside manner is extremely shitty. You don't usually expect someone to remind you of your potentially impending death five minutes into a hospital. He simply glances at Stephanie. "Her?" The woman prompts. 

"His partner," Steph amends. "Relax, Kon. This is my rodeo now." 

The thought doesn't nearly scare him as much as it probably should. When has he started trusting Steph? Probably at the point he realized he couldn't take care of Tim, or Jason, or even himself. On more evaluation, he realizes he doesn't feel anything. Except _tired_ and _cold_. 

He appreciates the doctor who talks to him and tells him what they're doing like he can understand words. The techs and nurses warn him when they are cutting off clothing or touching him. Stephanie offers him something to bite and he doesn't understand that at all until his arm is pulled out to the side and exposed to open air. It _hurts_. It's a pale imitation of what it felt like when Harriet grabbed him but it's still an amount of pain he hasn't been in for quite a while. He turns his head right as he hears a warning not to look.  

His brain can't make sense of it at first. His fingers are clenched, despite him not being able to move them at all. They're red with cold, which isn't too strange. But his forearm is mottled. It looks like bruising, almost, except the skin is swollen. Blistering. It's like there's a baseball in the center of his arm beneath flesh that doesn't even look human. "They're giving you something to help with the pain," Steph murmurs to him. "Your core temperature is coming up, Kon. You're doing great. You're just going to feel a little floaty. It's okay if you want to sleep." 

She's barely said it than he feels it. The drug entering his veins, no doubt, but he feels like he's falling. Spinning. It's not a great sensation, but his arm certainly starts to hurt less. Or maybe he just doesn't care about it anymore. But he does care about..."Tim?"

"I'll check," Steph reassures him. "I'll call Jason, too." 

"He's so pissed." Kon isn't sure why he feels the need to tell her that, but somehow he does. 

"I'm sure he'll get over it," she tells him. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next thing Kon knows, he's in a hospital room. An actual room, with an actual bed, and the harshness of streetlights streaming in through the window despite the blinds being drawn. It's jarring, and unsettling, and he has to mentally retrace what he remembers. His arm, the drugs...he thinks he remembers Tim with his face half covered like the Phantom of the Opera. Jason, too, arguing with the staff about the quality of their plastic surgeon and how he's bringing in his own. It's a little ridiculous and he thinks he might have made it up. 

At least, until someone stirs beside him. Jason, propped up in a chair. His hulking frame is easy to make out and identify, even in the darkness. Kon sits up a little more, seeing Tim beyond him, stretched on the fold out bed. Surprisingly, he’s on his side and facing them both. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Jason rasps. He clears his throat, reaching for a thermos left on the table next to him and takes a swallow of whatever inside. Then, taking pity on Kon, he offers it to him as well. 

Kon frowns. There's a pulse oximeter on his finger and an IV in the back of his hand. The other arm is covered in gauze. Jason just shakes his head, scooting forward to help him lift the thermos up to his lips. It's water, still cold, and he moans a little at just having something wet in his throat. “How long?” 

“It's close to midnight,” Jason replies. “So not as long as it feels. You know how shitty days seem to go on forever? It's kind of like that.” 

“We got stuck in a super shitty time paradox,” Tim's voice agrees sleepily as he sits up. But his face is all concern. Concern and stitches, Kon realizes. He gropes for a light. There has to be one somewhere, doesn't there? 

Jason flips it on and they all cringe a little. This really is a much nicer hospital, Kon has to admit. The lights are a warm white rather than that blinding, hideous florescent of most hospitals. Jason looks exhausted, but that's not all together unusual. Tim looks even worse, but there's no blood on his face. “Won't even scar,” Tim assures him, peeling back more of the bandage to show neat little stitches in quite a few locations on his face. 

“Amadeus got him good,” Jason confirms. “But my plastic surgeon is better. Can you believe they were going to have an ER doc stitch him up? Like those butchers know anything about preserving the aesthetic gorgeousness of that face.” 

Tim blushes a little, but he's clearly pleased with the attention. Kon wishes he could flirt like Jason does. He's more concerned in the moment, however, with how they got here. “Did we seriously get our butts kicked by ghosts?” he asks. “Like all that was real? I don't...okay I do kind of remember but I don't want to.” He owes them some honesty, at least. His gaze drifts to Jason. “What about after we left?” 

It's obvious that Jason's told the story before, but he indulges him as Tim wanders over to help Kon crank the bed into a more upright position. “Constantine and I put the skulls back in their graves,” he begins. 

Tim shakes his head. “He likes things chronologically,” he cuts in, which Kon does, but he's not about to object to any bit of information he can get right now. “In the basement? Amadeus was not having going into his skull. Constantine couldn't get him to enter the other circle he drew, so I left it. It's stupid, I know!” he adds at Kon's incredulous look. “Anyway, he swung the razor all around.” 

“But our boy didn't drop the skull and break the hold they had on him,” Jason says. He's not sure if Jason sounds proud or thinks Tim is an absolute lunatic. A little bit of both, if Kon's emotions are anything to go by. 

“You screamed then,” Tim admits. “I'm so sorry, Kon. I didn't know the circle was broken. None of us thought Harriet could do more than annoy you. She'd grabbed on by the time I turned around and I threw the skull to Steph, but Harriet was stronger than we thought she was. The holy water only pissed her off and I _couldn't get to you_.” Kon knows that tone. Knows the distress and the helplessness Tim must have felt because he's known the sensation himself. He's even seen it in Tim. With Jason. Helplessness is not something any of the men in this room take well. 

He lifts his arm. The bandaged arm, and Kon is a little amazed that he can move it now. It's sore. More than sore. But he can move it and he's not about to throw up from the pain. He uses it to draw his partner closer to him. “Hey,” he says. “I knew the risks, Tim. None of us could have seen that coming.” 

“It was my job to keep you safe,” Tim whispers, pressing his face against the curve of Kon's neck. Kon spares a thought for how he must smell after a day doing what they've been doing, but having Tim there is too nice for him to protest. 

“You did keep me safe,” Kon promises. Jason is watching them, looking as stricken and uncertain as Kon feels. “I'm sure you saved my life, Tim. If you hadn't tried then she would have dragged me under. You rescued me.” He lifts his other hand, but it's much harder to reel Jason in. The bed is too small for all of them so he has to settle for letting Jason sit on the side and rest a hand on Tim's back. 

They all sit like that for several minutes. Basking in the fact they are alive, or maybe they're simply huddled together in exhaustion. “You passed out for a bit,” Tim continues at last. “Then you were in and out of it when we started moving you. We got you here and they gave you warmed fluids and took care of your arm. It was frostbite, by the way. Only second degree so you don't need skin grafts or anything.” 

“It's just going to hurt like a son of a bitch,” Jason tells him. “Which probably is the thing we should have led with. That you're going to be fine and you should heal up. Just like Timmy.”  He pauses again. “You went to the hospital and Constantine and I speed buried the skulls.” 

“Jason,” Tim warns. 

But Jason doesn't heed him. “Seriously, we were like dogs with a bone. Tossed Amadeus right in and threw all that dirt back in on him. I wasn't very pleased with Harriet but figured I owed Constance one for coming to your rescue so we put them down more gently. Constantine said a few words and it was like the clouds lifted. No more bad feeling. No more cold.” 

Just some dug up graves and a school that will take thousands of dollars to repair. No ghosts. No proof of what happened, was there? “Constance?” he questions. 

Tim nods. He's at least looking a bit more eager about this part. “She manifested, Kon! We saw her. She helped us get Harriet and then Steph swears she breathed life back into you. Or warmth. But she was the best. I hate what happened to her.” 

Somewhere in all this, Kon's forgotten how the case started. He remembers now, the words Tim read to him as they drove here. Constance had been mutilated and murdered, right after watching her beloved daughter be killed by a near beheading. He’s going to carry a grudge for Harriet for a long time, but he tries to remember who she had been. Who Amadeus had been, even. A fairly average family for their time, who had come across evil and been unable to escape it. 

It makes a shiver go down his spine. Tim frowns, pulling blankets higher around him. It even helps him with the chill he feels inside. “How long am I staying?” 

“Just until morning,” Tim promises because it's not like either of them enjoy ending up this way. This is not even the second or third time a case has landed one or both of them in the hospital. “Director Lance is already here. She sent a crew and Constantine back to the school to estimate damage but it's actually just looking like a lot of clean up.” 

“Except for the wall we destroyed,” Jason adds helpfully. “But they can just put a bigger cabinet over the hole, right?” 

Kon doesn't give a shit what they do. They can burn the whole school down for all he cares. He's kind of surprised he feels that way, but if he ever sees that basement again it will be too soon. “Stephanie?” He feels guilty suddenly that he hasn't asked before. 

Tim gives him a light kiss on his cheek. “Home. Jason took her there himself. She sprained her ankle pretty badly but that's it, except some bruises. Which, by the way, I cracked a kneecap yesterday when I fell. And you let her hit me with a broom, you asshole. On a cracked kneecap!” 

“Hairline fracture and you still managed marathon sex last night just fine,” Jason replies. “Stop your whining.” 

Tim sticks his tongue out. “Says the man without a mark on him from this adventure despite the fact he invited himself to tag along.” 

“Hey,” Jason protests. “Without me being a magnet for weird shit and an automatic ghost buffer, things would have gone even worse than they did.” 

Kon hums his agreement, but he sees Tim perk up. “Yeah about that,” Tim begins. He has that kind of obsessed cast about him that’s growing in intensity and Kon is mentally shrieking and trying to quiet it down by reminding himself Tim hasn't possibly found time to get another case. “You know, Dinah-Director Lance- suggested to Constantine that he should be on reserve as a consultant. Apparently, there's a lot of cases he'd be useful in, even just glancing over.” 

Jason doesn't see where the conversation is going. Kon could see it blindfolded, spun around, and in the dark. It's kind of ingenious, but Kon's fingers clench around Tim's anyway. It might not be the right time. There's so much left to say between them and this might not be the place to start. 

Tim, though, is nothing if not intent to the end. “You'd be a perfect consultant, Jay. You don't need the money. You're available weird hours. You like helping people and you're a natural at the things we investigate.” 

“You're serious,” Jason scoffs. “Have you lost your fucking mind, Timmy? I saw you with your face slashed to ribbons and Conner over there nearly freeze to death and have his arm fall off. I've been _tied to an altar and tortured by a demon_. You expect me to just jump right on board and sign up for more? Am I that much of a masochist?” 

His partner wilts a little and Kon wants to protect him. That's going to be a trap he'll have to watch out for; trying to protect Tim from Jason or vice versa. “Look,” Jason continues, running a hand through his hair. “I'm not saying never. But right now? I'm not much good to you. I've promised to talk to someone about this curse of mine and I'll see how I feel then.” 

It's a pretty good compromise, Kon thinks, or maybe it's just the drugs swimming in his bloodstream. He doesn't feel as disoriented as earlier but he's pretty sure he shouldn't be feeling this good. Maybe it's the fact he's touching both Tim and Jason. Maybe it's because they all made it out alive and (relatively speaking) unscathed. There's a lot to be thankful for. A lot to be grateful for. Now hopefully they can survive the next little bit. “No more secrets,” he tells them, then grimaces and amends, “Not a lot of secrets. We can't have them to turn against one another. We have to be honest. Even when it's painful.” 

Very painful, for Tim. Probably for Jason as well, but he isn't the one who spent a night pressed up against Kon and crying silently until he made himself sick. It had broken his heart to hear Tim that night and he still doesn’t know the full details of what happened. 

“When we have some privacy,” Tim agrees reluctantly, his gaze fixed on Jason's face. “I'll tell you whatever you want to know.” 

“I'd appreciate that,” Jason answers and leans forward. “You're going to have to kiss me, because I don't know how to put my face against yours without hurting those stitches.” 

Tim obliges. Kon knows they are in for a rocky few days, but he feels like he couldn't be happier than in this moment. Especially when it becomes his turn for affection. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

They stay in Gotham for two nights. The first involves a home-cooked meal courtesy of Jason's butler (that still blows Kon's mind a bit) they all enjoy very much and a deep conversation no one wants to be a part of but is very necessary if things are going to work out between them. It turns out none of them are angry at one another, not exactly, but more furious at the way things turned out a year ago. 

Jason had his memories altered somewhat and forgot sleeping with Tim. Tim never told him for fear of bringing back worse memories and didn’t tell Kon about it because he didn’t want to hurt him. Kon's not sure if he feels guilty for making Tim think that way or if he wants to punch him, so he eats another helping of potato soup and glares while Jason and Tim argue if consent to have your mind altered is consent to lose memories forever. 

Either way, they can both see it hasn't been easy on him keeping the secret or reliving the moments he spent with Jason before he forgot what happened. Kon curses himself a fool for not seeing how badly his partner and friend was hurt and Tim protests that he purposefully hid from him. 

They talk about Tim's dad. Most of that story Kon knows, but it's enlightening for him to hear about how Jason's mom died and he can see how it eases Tim a little to be reminded he's not the only orphan in the world. 

The night is emotionally draining and ridiculously therapeutic. Kon’s attended worse therapy sessions and none with such good food. It's a suggestion he might make to Director Lance for when she mandates they talk something out; feed him and he's all over it. 

It’s a shame the next day is full of work for all of them. Jason has his job to go to (with Bruce breathing down his neck for what he’s done) and Kon handles a write-up of the case while Tim fills out an accident report, grumbling all the while because he hates forms. Director Lance's interview with him is short, but definitely not sweet. Tim's given her the bulk of the details, but she wants Kon’s side of things as they both know how Tim can be. The agents have already discussed what parts to gloss over, particularly Jason’s involvement but there is no escaping the fact that he’s starting to remember things he’d purposefully forgotten. Ultimately, she has him sign an affidavit and asks him to forward her a written copy of his report when it's available. He knows she's going easy on him but for once he can't bother himself to care.  

Even that little bit of activity is too much exertion for Kon and he sleeps the rest of the afternoon away on the sofa, not waking until there’s a knock at the door. Tim answers it before he can move and lets Jason in. The man is loaded down with pizza boxes, a case of soda, and a six pack of beer. Definitely food Kon can get behind and he pushes himself up carefully to try and stand. Really, he's not in that bad of shape. 

“Sit your ass down, corn boy,” Jason orders as he heads to the kitchen. The night before he’d familiarized himself with everything and made himself right at home. Kon remembers something about the man being at least a decent cook, but he’s still a little sleep fogged and the exact memory escapes him. Either way, it's like he's always belonged there and there's a certain sense of peace about it.  

“It’s fine, Kon,” Tim reassures him as he follows. “We’ll bring you a plate.” 

Kon hates being treated liken an invalid, which he knows makes him a horrible patient. He also hates his pain meds right now because that means the soda is for him and the beer is for his boyfriends. Totally not fair. At least he gets pizza instead of soup. He better, anyway.  

His suspicion is right when Jason finally gets around to loading a plate of pizza for him after he very enthusiastically greets Tim. There was a lot of tongue involved and Tim has a very dazed look on his face when Jason finally pulls away; Kon isn't sure if he should be smitten or jealous. One plate and a glass of soda later, Jason is sitting down next to him and sets both on the coffee table in front of them.  

“How’s the arm today?” he asks, eyeing the carefully bandaged arm and the sling Kon wears to keep it stable for the time being. He probably wouldn't need the sling if he were on his own and unmedicated but he's not trusting his balance or Tim's grace to avoid having to make sudden movements.  

“Still attached.” What more can he ask for after a ghost attack? 

“Good.” The man smirks and then his hand is in Kon’s hair tugging him closer without jostling him. His mouth is minty with a hint of ash, so he must have smoked before coming up and popped a few Tic Tacs to try to hide it. It's not a very successful method but Kon loses himself in the kiss anyway, in the heat of his mouth and the warm press of his body holding him so close. Warmth is definitely something he craves right now and Tim just doesn’t cut it, even when he wraps himself around him. 

Kon is aware on some level that Tim sits down next to them, but it’s not until he hears him sigh that he finally breaks away and glares crossly at him. “What?” It's maybe only a tiny bit defensive.  

“I will never get tired of watching that,” Tim grins back brightly, completely shameless. 

Jason rests his chin on Kon’s shoulder and chuckles at him. “Me neither, but I do like participating more.” 

Kon’s stomach rumbles before he can add his two cents.  

Laughing outright now, Jason picks up his plate and hands it to him. “You got this or do I need to feed you? That might be fun. I could even make you a bib.” 

“Fuck you,” Kon replies and sets the plate on his knee. Pizza he can eat singled handed and blindfolded. In fact, he has.  

“Oh, I plan to,” Jason returns with a wink as he gets up to make a plate for himself. “I’m sure there’s  _something_  we can work out between all of your bandages and bruises.” 

Tim queues up Netflix and puts on a movie. It's a familiar ritual, one that Kon finds ridiculously reassuring no matter what madness the world has thrown at them. They even manage to pay some attention to it for as long as the food lasts. Kon must have dozed off again because the next thing he knows, he hears the telltale signs of some serious messing around going on at the opposite end of the sofa. Channeling his inner Tim, he shifts slightly, like he’s trying to get more comfortable, and opens his eyes a thin crack. 

And then opens them a bit more because that is something worth seeing in its fullest possible light. 

Jason is still mostly dressed, but his suit pants and boxer briefs have been shoved down over the top of his thighs. His dress shirt is peeled back wide and the undershirt pushed up as far as it can go. It takes Kon a moment to spot where his tie has gone and when he does, his eyes open all the way.  

Tim is wearing it loosely around his slender neck. And that’s all he’s wearing as he bucks up and down slowly over Jason’s cock, his own member untouched between them. Jason’s hands guide him as he moves, digging in to the scant meat of Tim’s hips. His partner’s blissed out, but his mouth is a thin white line as he bites his lip to keep from making a sound.  

It occurs to Kon that they’re trying to be quiet so as to not wake him up.  

That’s a crying shame because Tim makes the prettiest noises… 

Kon shifts again, this time on purpose and pointedly palms his already swelling cock as two pairs of startled blue eyes meet his. Surely they can't be that surprised he woke up with them having sex right next to them. “Don’t stop because of me,” he says.  

Tim’s mouth opens and there’s that gasp of his, followed by a low moan that hits Kon straight in the gut as he slams back down on the thick cock below him.  

“Jesus, fuck,” Jason groans. That seems to be the last straw for him as he starts shaking, rocking his hips in short thrusts as he comes. 

The kiss Tim bestows on the man is absolutely filthy and Kon senses there’s a story he’s missing as he looks like the cat who got the cream. Okay, bad analogy, but still. He knows that smug and victorious expression on his face.  

“I win,” Tim says as he climbs off Jason, still hard, and crawls over to Kon. 

“Hi,” he says weakly as his partner settles himself in his lap. His sweatpants are tented between them and he really wishes he’d thought to take his nap earlier in just his boxers. 

“Hi,” Tim purrs and runs his hands up Kon’s chest, avoiding his sling, and wrapping them around his neck. Kon zeros in on the tie hanging at half mast over the smaller man’s chest. He’s used to seeing ties like this on him, but never without a shirt on. The knot has settled almost exactly over his sternum, drawing the eye just like the two reddened nipples on either side of it do.  

“I see Jason’s been busy.” It's like some kind of wet dream. In fact, he's not all together sure it isn't. 

“We had a bet.” Tim starts rocking slightly against his hips and Kon has to blink hard before he remembers his initial question. 

“Oh?” It’s not much of a question, but still. It's a real word with tone. And inflection. He remembered the inflection. 

“Jason bet that we’d be done before you woke up.” 

“Ah,” Kon replies and rests his good hand on Tim’s hip, digging into the firm flesh just like Jason had. “So what did you win?’ 

Tim’s looks very proud of himself. “The right to fuck you when you woke up. If you want to, that is.” There’s a slight shift where concern shines through. “If you’re not up for it, that’s fine too.” 

“Oh, I think he’s up for it,” Jason finally chimes in. “If he didn’t have those sweats on, he’d be balls deep in your ass already.”  

That doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all. Kon arches his back, inviting Tim in for a kiss. It’s more intense than what they usually share, but Tim is also hard and leaking precum on his stomach. “Wrap me up?” he whispers against his mouth. 

“Gladly.” 

A minute later, a condom is in place and Kon’s cock is sliding into the slick trail blazed by the man now resting right next to them. Jason watches intently as Tim takes him into his body. Kon idly notices he hasn’t pulled his pants back up, but then his attention is firmly locked onto Tim as he twists his hips a bit as he rocks down onto his cock.  

Right. He’s fucking his partner. Or rather, his partner is fucking him as Kon really can’t move too much with the sling tucked between their bodies. Tim is careful not to press against or jostle it, which he appreciates. He gasps as Jason leans in from his good side and starts mouthing at his neck, his warm tongue lapping at his skin. That tongue is soon in his mouth and Tim braces his hands on Kon’s shoulders and leans back, changing his angle and crying out as he apparently finds  _that_  spot.  

A few more thrusts and Tim’s spilling over himself, as well as on the tie. Here’s to hoping it isn't dry-clean only. 

He moans when Tim clenches tight around him, but it’s still not enough to push him over the edge. It’s like his medicine is letting him get close, but refuses to let him fall.  

Jason taps Tim out and the man falls bonelessly to the side, smooshed between Kon and the arm of the sofa, but still aware enough to not jar Kon as he does. In less than a breath, the larger man is kneeling in the floor between Kon’s spread knees and he’s peeled the condom off. “My turn,” is all he says before swallowing the tip of his cock. He could get used to this. He could really get used to this. In fact, he's probably ruined for other relationships already.  

Kon uses his good hand to tangle his fingers in Jason’s messy hair. He can feel the remnants of hair product from where it was styled earlier, but Tim has long since destroyed any pretense of neatness. Jason proves yet again he has no gag reflex and somewhere in the vicinity of the fourth time his cock slips down the man’s throat, Kon tightens his fingers, tugging at his hair. “Jason,” he warns because it's only polite but he’s paid no mind as Jason keeps going, humming even, which is what sends him over the proverbial cliff. 

His orgasm rips through him, but it feels like it’s being dragged out, inch by inch. He blames his meds.  

When Kon shakes off his medication and orgasm induced stupor, Tim and Jason are lip locked again. It doesn’t take a genius to see Tim licking all over his mouth. Kon can’t help but whine because  _he_  wants to be the one to do that. To Tim. To Jason. Hell, either of them.

Jason takes the hint and leans over Kon. “Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you.” And he has no doubts about that, because they always do. He has no reason to believe they won't always.  

The rest of the evening is lost in a blur of sex that somehow involves the christening of Tim’s rug in front of the sofa, but also the shower (Kon hates the plastic wrap they use to keep his bandages dry), and finally the bed.  

But they can't stay in Gotham any longer. The real world calls, ones where Jason has his own responsibilities and Kon and Tim have theirs. They all hate it, but it's good practice for how this relationship is going to work. They have at least decided they all want to try for some kind of functional, polyamorous thing between the three of them. Kon's more relieved than he thought he'd be. 

“You don't want to retire after this, do you?” Tim asks when they've finally unpacked all of his equipment into his townhouse. Kon doesn't remember packing so much but then again when he first loaded the SUV up, it wasn't with an arm that feels like it is burning off and on. He's been assured it's the sensation of nerves knitting back together and that it's a good thing but he's not looking forward to this healing process. 

He'll give Tim credit where it's due though; his partner has probably been dying to ask that question for the past week. To be honest, Kon has actually given it some thought. He does after every bizarre case that doesn't end on a high note. He'd actually taken a full week off and out of contact with Tim after Jason's original case in order to process the things he'd seen and evaluate if he could keep going. 

Tim has always kept him coming back. Not only his need to protect him, either. There's always been a thread of worry that this job is what binds them together. That if Kon isn't present, Tim will be swept away in the tide of the unexplainable and never bother with having a best friend or lover again. “I understand if you want to ask for a transfer,” he admits quietly. “And I won't hold it against you. It won't change how I feel about you.” 

“I know,” Kon replies. He really does. It makes him want to yell with joy sometimes. To sweep Tim up and crush him in a hug for actually caring about him as himself and not as his partner on some crazy misadventure. 

Though, really, their lives are crazy misadventures. So it's not that far off. 

“I want to stay though,” Kon admits before Tim can lose all hope. “I know it's absolutely terrible for me and I still don't believe in half the stuff you do, but I can't imagine myself anywhere else.” This is where he belongs for the time being and this is where he's going to stay, God and Director Lance willing. 

Tim smiles at him and it's brilliant. Like the sun coming out. Proof something might finally thaw the cold he feels down to his bones these days. “Just what I wanted to hear,” he murmurs, pressing himself up against Kon and looping arms around his waist. He leans in for a kiss and Kon happily obliges until Tim pulls away with a little smirk. “Kon?” 

“Hmm?” He's already chasing after him, trying to get another kiss or two. 

“How do you feel about sirens? The kind that supposedly live in the ocean and sing men to their deaths?” 

“Like you were at that aquatic bar too long,” Kon answers, brushing his lips along Tim's jaw. “Why?” 

Tim makes a noise like he's being coy, but by now Kon knows exactly what it means. “I was thinking. I have a few good leads on a siren that is actually friendly.” He pauses and grins. “They only live in tropical waters, you know? In places where it's warm and sunny year round.” 

Kon finds himself smiling as well. “Really? I suppose you want to go chasing this siren, then.” 

“Really,” Tim whispers back, going up on his toes to lightly nudge his forehead against Kon's. “Care to join me?” 

He considers another bizarre case and whether he's ready or not. He thinks of sun and sand. Of teaching Tim to surf. Of kissing Jason in the ocean and possibly getting thrown out of a bar when the man insults the naming scheme of the drinks. “I'm all over that,” Kon agrees, wrapping his arm firmly around his partner. “I don't want to believe in all of this stuff, but you're starting to sway me.” 

“Perfect,” Tim answers against his lips. “Making you believe has been my plan this whole time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! At least for now. We have _plans_ for these guys, plus there's the little story that technically got the ball rolling with this entire plot in the first place. 
> 
> I do want to extend a very special thank you to strikeyourcolors for coming up with this wonderful AU and inviting me to come write in it! This has been a very eye-opening experience (for both of us) as it's the first time either of us have collaborated to quite this extent with another writer. I wonder what we'll come up with next?


End file.
